Darkness Purged to Light
by The Scorpion
Summary: What if POTO had taken place in modern times and Erik was arrested and put on trial for his crimes? How would the modern world deal with Erik's sins? How would Erik deal with imprisonment after he let Christine go?...And Christine?
1. Corbin&Varlese Vs Erik

Before we begin, let me explain what I'm doing here: This phic was originally based off an rp of mine with my good friend, the lovely Cree, in which she played Robert Corbin and Christine Daaé. She provided the reflector that was needed for my initiation! The "what if?" question that inspired Cree to prompt the rpwas originally posted by Jonathan and Karen from the old, old POTO mailing list.

This story will generally follow Leroux's order of events, Kay's history, and ALW's ending (But a final lair that is a mix of all three). Don't worry if that doesn't make sense; it will be explained throughout the course of the story. Basically, think of all of that and transpose everything exactly as it was to a modern day American setting. I chose to set it in America because I am absolutely no expert on legal procedure (I'm learning though! Any help is greatly appreciated!), and as little as I know about the legal procedure here in the US, I'd know MUCH less about how it goes in France. I'm doing what research I can for the details, but I generally plan to avoid them where unnecessary and focus on the characters we know and love in this sublime "what if?" situation! I'd appreciate any and all possible feedback, so please review! And, if you know something about law and trial procedures and can give me some pointers, please email me or IM: CHRlSTINEDAAE (AOL), instead of leaving it in your review, as I don't think anyone else would much care to see all that mumbo jumbo :)

Now get ready for some angst, hope you enjoy and much fmeek to all!!!

* * *

**SomeWeeks After the Arrest**

Robert Corbin was seated at the table in the penitentiary's meeting room, his briefcase open. With one hand, he shifted through some papers and, with the other, lifted a Starbucks coffee cup and took a drink. His partner, Clara Varlese, stood behind him and once again impatiently checked the plain, round clock on the wall.

"It's late. I hate it when they're late."

Corbin set the coffee down as something in the document he read caught his attention. "They're usually late. It just gives us more time to prepare. I have a feeling this is going to be tough to win."

"Tough?" Varlese asked rhetorically, her foul mood more than apparent in her tone. "They're all tough, and we can't always win. Why should this one be any tougher?"

Corbin lifted an eyebrow. "Have you seen the notes on this one?"

Varlese had just been thrown into this case by their state firm that morning when Corbin had requested help after being assigned this trial the day before. It wasn't like him to ask for help. He was the confident sort. Varlese was the practical sort. She'd dealt with too many guilty criminals to be foolishly confident about winning everything she tried. She did what she could and she did her best. And her best was usually good.

"Sort of...Not really," she admitted. "But they're all the same, these guys."

Corbin handed her his most recent case summary. "You should read them on this guy."

She read over them silently only for a minute before she let out a low whistle. "Mamma mia..."

"Exactly." Corbin massaged his temples, fighting back the onset of a headache. He had been up all night trying to find out what he could on their client, but information had proved to be very strangely lacking. "We can use all the time we have."

His new partner and old friend shrugged and handed the papers back to him. "Well this makes it easy for us, actually. We'll advise him to plea-bargain and hopefully he'll get off with life."

"Yeah, but they hate pleading guilty," he commented, miffed at how lightly she seemed to be taking what looked like would be the most complicated case of his career.

"There's no way we could defend this case," she pointed out, just as offhandedly.

That was what the last lawyer had thought as well. And the one before that. Before they'd asked to be reassigned. Corbin was the third to be commissioned, but he was determined to go through with it. He could do this, he knew. It was getting down to the wire and he'd only agreed less than 24 hours ago and now he was already in the prison, ready for his first meeting with the accused. "If they think they can get off, they go with it...And all we can do is strongly advise."

She laughed at him. "You think he'd think he could get off? You think you could get him off...?"

"Hell, I'm not an idiot," he consented, "But I had a case once where this guy was seen by the judge and half the jury committing the crime...He still thought he could get off."

"Well you're going to grow a few more gray hairs over this one..."

"Tell me about it. I'm only thirty-six, for God's sake!"

She started to laugh at his misfortune when she heard the approaching sounds of the guards. "Shh," she hissed as if he had been the one about to make some sound. "They're coming."

He nodded, pushing his briefcase aside as she stood next to him, her eyes on the door.

The defendant was brought in by two guards. Two guards instead of the customary single escort accompanied with the observation that the prisoner was handcuffed was odd to both of them. However, neither of the details were so strange as the fact that the man's entire face was covered with an expressionless, yet strangely intimidating looking black mask.

Corbin stood, a look of steady professionalism on his face. The defendant did not look at either of his attorneys or seem to pay attention to anything at all as one of the guards pulled out the chair for him. Varlese studied the man with her lawyer's eye. Tall, she thought. Very tall. And it was true, he was a head above both of the guards, and security officers in state prisons are generally never exactly chosen for their minds over their size. She also thought he looked a lot more withdrawn than she'd expected...Maybe he really regretted everything...That could be used to their advantage. Despite his height, he actually looked rather pathetic with the orange prison clothes all too wide on his thin, almost emaciated frame.

Both officers went back to the door but looked to the lawyers before leaving to see if they wanted them to stay. They were taking extra precautions with this inmate.

Corbin nodded to them, telling them to go, and then turned to his client. "Good afternoon."

When the man gave absolutely no response whatsoever, Varlese glanced over at Corbin and then back to the prisoner and addressed him professionally. "Please, have a seat."

As the first guard left, the second looked back and addressed the lawyers. "We'll be waiting outside. Knock on the door when you're done and I'll unlock it."

Varlese nodded impatiently, well aware of the procedure.

The guard gestured rudely back to the man before he went. "I think you know what to do with this one."

Corbin impatiently waved the guard out of the room before turning back to his new client who, in a strange display of repressive silence, had continued to stand as perfectly immobile as a statue. "Please, sit down. We have quite a few things to go over."

He glanced back to the door as he heard the buzz of the electric lock activate, and when he turned again, the man was in his seat, his handcuffed wrists resting on the tabletop. He hadn't heard him move at all and had only looked away for a split second! As he looked at him now, he seemed completely unfocused on reality and very much off in his own world.

Corbin cleared his throat, automatically going into business, and reopened his briefcase to look among the documents for a last name he somehow had not noticed before. Meanwhile, Varlese scrutinized their subject very closely, trying to gain what she could from his appearance. She didn't understand why he was wearing a mask...But that was her own fault for not yet reading the case summary. She'd check that out later. It took her a moment to realize that the man she studied had gradually shifted his eyes and was now staring at her in a look that spelled lethal contempt. She was startled momentarily and immediately pretended to take interest in what her associate was doing.

But Corbin couldn't find what he was searching for and looked up apologetically. "I'm not seeing a last name. Do you prefer to go by Erik?"

Erik's eyes shifted back to look at Corbin, but he didn't answer him as if the question did not deserve a response.

Corbin continued to try to make the best of the situation. "Alright then. I'll assume Erik is appropriate. Now, are you aware of all charges being held against you?"

Perplexingly, he received absolutely no reply other than Erik's continuing stare.

Varlese frowned, already not liking the way this was going. Corbin lifted his eyes expectantly when, after another minute, he still hadn't an answer but only came in contact with a look from the still silent and immobile Erik that, had he known his client any better, would have plainly told him that if he'd wanted to, he could have ended Corbin's life very quickly at that moment.

He felt the need to break the silence and cool the feeling that it was becoming strangely warm in the small room. "...Would you rather not talk about this right now?"

Once again, he got no response.

Now, Varlese saw this sort of thing often and usually wasn't intimidated in the least, but there was something weird about this guy...She spoke authoritatively to make up for her uncharacteristic lack of inner strength. "Mr. Corbin asked you a question. Please answer him. If we are to defend you in court, you will need to cooperate with us; otherwise your case is going nowhere fast."

Erik did not even acknowledge her presence, and Corbin was becoming secretly intimidated by his unbroken stare. He avoided it, turning back to his briefcase.

"We will return at a later time..." He glanced back down at the papers, and then added, hoping to get a reaction out of Erik, "Perhaps next time we'll bring this 'Christine Daaé' with us."

He had succeeded, and Erik's eyes flashed with an incomprehensible personal association to the name. "No."

Both attorneys were startled by the word. Varlese would never have expected a sound like that to come from the man who sat on the other side of the table. Corbin was more troubled somehow than surprised by the voice. He had hooked something, though, and he wasn't about to let it go.

"...If she is the only way to get you to speak with us, then I suppose it is necessary."

Erik's demeanor changed in a second from his previous reticent state to obvious anger. "I will not have her see me. Do not try to manipulate me, Mr. Corbin. It will not work."

Without taking his eyes off the man, Erik removed the handcuffs from own his slender wrists quite effortlessly, pushed them aside, and folded his hands on the table.

The action was too quickly and smoothly accomplished for either observer to comprehend. Varlese masked the surprise Corbin couldn't by demanding in a strongly defensive tone, "Is that a threat, sir?"

Corbin collected himself, choosing to not let the lack of handcuffs on the prisoner be of concern to him. "I strongly advise you to talk to us, sir, if you want any chance of survival outside of bars. I will do whatever necessary to accomplish that, and if bringing the young lady in is the only way, then I will...In your best interest, of course."

It almost seemed to them that the low and menacing laugh did not even come from Erik himself. It was in the air and met their ears, but was as if its origin never had existed.

"My best interest? What do you care of my best interest?"

"We are your lawyers," Corbin answered, attempting his best effort not to betray how intimidated he was. "That is generally the point."

Erik leaned back in his chair, the tips of his peculiarly skeletal fingers pressed together. "I don't like lawyers."

That fact was more than obvious to Corbin. "We are not here to discuss your dislikes. We are here to discuss your future."

Erik chose not to respond to that. He made no move whatsoever and simply continued to watch a bit too closely for Corbin's comfort.

"If you talk to us, I will not bring in Miss Daaé against your request. If you do not, I will. It's your choice."

Erik said nothing for a moment more while simply staring at Corbin with those strange eyes that seemed to glow in the shadows cast by the deep sockets of the mask in the fluorescent lights. And then, just as Corbin was seriously starting to regret his words, Erik spoke:

"Yes."

Varlese didn't follow. Yes what? Corbin asked the question before she could.

"Yes, you'll talk?"

Erik seemed annoyed. "Yes, I am aware of all charges being held against me."

That was enough for Corbin and he looked satisfied. "Good. Do you believe you are guilty of each crime selected?"

Erik simply shrugged his shoulders as if to say he didn't care.

"Verbally, please," Corbin prompted.

" 'Guilt' is relative." It was the only answer he offered.

"Please explain."

Erik then proceeded to explain the meaning of 'relative' for his defender. "To some it would be and to some it would not."

"I am aware of the definition," Corbin responded, slightly irritated. "I am more interested in which crimes you are referring to as possible guilt."

Erik's annoyance with this man was beginning to grow, however, he was also half starting to become amused with him. It had been quite some time since anything had managed to actually amuse Erik. "That is entirely dependant on which of the charges against me you would consider 'crimes.' "

"The court rules all of these as potential crimes."

"And what do you think?"

"I believe what you tell me and no more."

Erik then leaned forward and, resting his elbows on the table, gave the lawyer a look cold enough to chill blood. "Tell me, Mr. Corbin, just how much do they pay you for lying in court to release criminals like me back into the world?"

Varlese had had enough of this and wasn't going to stand for it any longer. She smacked her hand down on the table next to her partner in anger and with the intention to startle. "That is enough! Do you admit guilt or don't you? Or shall we go through the charges against you one by one?"

Though the only one who was startled was Corbin himself, he didn't say a word and only narrowed his eyes at Erik in severity.

Erik, on the other hand, calmly turned to look at his questioner and then leaned back in the chair again and once more shrugged in apathy.

"Answer her question, please," Corbin said with well-learned authority. "Or answer this: are you admitting guilt?"

"Guilt to what?" he asked insolently.

Corbin's frustration was inflating with Erik's impudence. "The charges against you."

Because Erik had managed to get Corbin to ask him about the charges collectively, he then only replied in terms of admitting guilt to _all_ of them. "No."

Corbin was simply relieved to at last get a straight answer and nodded. "Then we will try to make your case as strong as possible."

"And what do you hope to accomplish by that?"

That was hostility Varlese heard in those words. Corbin looked back to Erik, only seeming confused by the question. "Your freedom, of course. What else?"

"Freedom." Erik repeated the word as if the fact that Corbin had used it disgusted him.

Meanwhile, Varlese was thinking that she didn't really want to try to have to make this case as strong as possible. There was no way they could win it and, truly, Erik would very likely get off with his life if they moved to plea-bargain. She looked to her partner doubtfully. He met her eye, understanding her apprehension.

"Unless that is not what you want?" he asked of Erik in response to his utterance of revulsion as Varlese took up the case summary and began to look at the specifics again.

Erik responded flatly. "I will never have what I want."

Corbin looked up at him again from the court case. "What is it that you want?"

Erik only continued to look at him, not answering that.

Varlese, who was adding things up, began to speak aloud as she read. "We have here...Three accounts of first degree murder, one of first degree felony murder, blackmail and extortion for 1.48 million dollars, large scale destruction of property, minor scale property theft, and...horse theft? All federal charges...And these against a state institution...And then there are these other charges...Kidnapping, manipulation, fraud, burglary, aggravated assault, causing lasting mental anguish..." She trailed off as she flipped a page and her eyes began to scan further the descriptions of yet other charges.

Corbin's impending headache suddenly let itself free to stampede around his temples. "And you do not believe you are guilty of any of these crimes?"

"Hm." Erik thought about it a moment before beginning to speak evenly, "Did I kill Joseph Bouquet? No, that was suicide. Philippe Chagny? No, he was dead when I found him. Did I make the chandelier fall and kill that old woman? No, it was quite old...quite old and in need of repair; it fell rather on its own. Did I steal money from the management? No, they gave it to me very willingly. And as for the horse...I saw a neglected animal in need of care, and simply gave it the proper attention it deserved. And theft can hardly be considered theft if the objects never leave the building..." His eyes stayed trained on them for a moment of silence before he continued. "But am I lying? Who can say." He then shrugged a little as he began to slip again into his own thoughts.

Corbin just gaped at him, stunned beyond words for a moment. "I...I suppose you're right..."

Varlese blinked a couple times, trying to sort out all that was said before looking back to the papers in her hand. "What about the death of the Italian tenor on stage?...And the kidnapping of Christine Daaé?"

He didn't say a word. He was wholly unfocused and seemed to have not really heard her.

Corbin waited a moment before speaking up. "Sir? Could you answer her question please?"

Erik slowly glanced up at him, taking a moment to understand what he was being asked. "Question...?"

"What of the kidnapping of Miss Daaé, the death of the tenor?" Corbin repeated with more patience than his associate would have been able to muster. "What have you to say about that?"

Erik answered absently: "Theft of a person is hardly different than theft of a horse...She never left the building either...And Piangi...I didn't murder him, he died."

"But did you hold her against her will? You are charged with false imprisonment."

"I didn't hold her, the _walls_ did."

Corbin's patience was fading and he sent his client a look. "I doubt that will convince a jury. What would Miss Daaé say if she were asked if you took her against her will?"

"She would give whatever answer best suited her motives at the time, I should think," Erik answered simply.

"And what would her motives be?"

"If they were to see me convicted, I'm quite sure she would say whatever was necessary to make that happen."

"Does Miss Daaé hold a grudge against you?"

Erik was quickly becoming more withdrawn into himself again and merely shrugged as if to say that he didn't know and that it didn't matter.

Corbin was at a loss and looked to Varlese. Her answering look didn't offer much. He sighed under his breath, standing once more. "I think we're done here for today."

She nodded and laid the papers back down on the table before going over to knock on the door to let the guards know that they were done. Meanwhile, Erik absently put the handcuffs back on his own wrists in the most normal fashion and stood as Corbin watched and felt very uncomfortable. Of all the murderers and criminals he had ever dealt with, never had he encountered something...or someone...like this.

"We'll return later," he said as he closed his briefcase and Varlese stood back, watching the guards enter and escort out Erik who had completely returned to the same silent, withdrawn state that had possessed him when he'd arrived.

Once he was gone, she turned to look at Corbin. "Well..."

Suddenly, he just looked immensely tired. "There is no way we're going to win this one...Especially if Miss Daaé holds a grudge. Though he _does_ have points. Truly, can it be considered stealing if it never leaves the building?"

She pitied him then. It was only the first day and he was already asking stupid, hopeless questions. "Taking something that doesn't belong to you and keeping it from the person it belongs to is stealing...There's no way that argument would hold up."

He nodded a little. At least she was humoring him. "Our next step will be to try and pay a visit to Miss Daaé to see her views on the whole thing. That way, we'll know what were up against."

Varlese looked doubtful. "Is she already a witness for the prosecution? If they've already got her, we probably won't be able to get much out of her."

"I'm not sure." Corbin cursed himself for being so behind on this case. "We should try at least."

"If her case is favorable," she mused, "We might be able to get some sympathy for Erik, here...But what he's going get the electric chair for are the murders."

"Yes, you're right, of course. What do you suggest we do?"

"The only way he'll be acquitted for those would be through lack of evidence...Or an alibi...If somebody saw him elsewhere when they happened..." She felt like she was explaining the process for a five-year-old...Not her esteemed colleague. But Erik's case was certainly unique. "Although...The actual times of death for each are so sketchy, it would be hard to float..."

"I don't even want to think about that..." he cut her off, knowing fully well he would have to think about it. A lot. He stood and collected his things. "Apparently the tenor didn't 'just die.' He had a rope around his neck, according to several witnesses."

"Yes...But there was no room for hanging," she recalled from the report she'd just glazed. "And it's hardly likely that he just hung himself on stage...According to the medics, he had simply been strangled by the rope. Someone had to have been pulling the rope to strangle him. There's no way that could be palmed off as an accident."

"I know. We hardly have a case."

She shook her head. "I still say the best thing would be to get him to plead guilty and show a lot of remorse...A _lot_ of remorse...He may get two life sentences, but they won't fry him..."

Corbin walked to the door, already analyzing the whole strange meeting. "We'll talk to him more next time. He seems indifferent to the whole thing, Clara. It might be easier than we expect to get him to plead guilty."

He opened the door and she nodded in agreement as they left the prison. "I don't see why he wouldn't. He doesn't exactly seem to care much about principle."

"Not at all." He stopped outside the door, looking out at the dreary late April clouds. "Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"

She checked her watch before answering and then shook her head. She hated when they were late. "No, I have to be back at the firm in a few. E-mail me when you find out whether Daaé is supporting the prosecution or not."

He nodded, "Alright, I will. See you later."

"Right." She waved a goodbye and then was off to her car.


	2. Corbin&Varlese Vs Christine

**Six Days After the Meeting**

Clara Varlese sat at the desk, in her office, at the firm, on the phone with someone regarding the details of the case. As she glanced at her computer screen, she noticed the time and realized that it was a few minutes past her scheduled appointment with Christine Daaé. It had come as a surprise when she'd heard from Corbin that Miss Daaé had refused to testify for the prosecution. Perhaps the situation for this case wouldn't wind up being so hopeless after all! She quickly ended the conversation and hung up the phone. Corbin was running late. He had called in earlier explaining that he had had the misfortune to spill coffee on his pants and had to go home to change. Varlese buzzed the secretary in the anteroom and asked if Miss Daaé was there yet, and when she received an affirmative answer, instructed the woman to send her in.

Christine, who had been waiting patiently just beyond the secretary's desk, looked up when she heard the sound of the intercom. She was doing her best to try to hide how very tired and worried she looked as she stood, uncrossing her hands from her lap, and went to the door of the office. She hesitated a moment, unsure, before knocking. Her hand had only just come in contact with the wood before the door opened before her and revealed a highly professional looking woman in a grey business suit.

"Please, come in. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Daaé," said Varlese as she offered her hand. Christine shook it and attempted a weak smile. Varlese gestured to a chair on one side of the table and moved back around to her position on the other.

"You will have to forgive my associate, Mr. Corbin, he's running a little late, but he will be with us shortly."

"It's alright," Christine responded. "I'm sorry I couldn't meet with you earlier this week. My fiancé had some objections..."

'Some objections' was putting the matter mildly. The girl's fiancé had had more than just _some_ objections. In fact, the conversation that included the said objections had ended with him forbidding Christine to go to the meeting at all. But, to Christine's advantage, he had had one of those engagements, as young businessmen often do, that came up rather suddenly and most conveniently kept him away this afternoon. Christine was not about to let the chance pass by and quickly scheduled this meeting. It wasn't that her fiancé didn't have perfectly good reasons for wanting her not to go...But...She went anyway...

Varlese sat. "That would be Raoul Chagny, yes? He is a witness for the prosecution in this case. What do you mean by objections?"

"He isn't exactly thrilled that I agreed to meet with you," Christine answered, choosing her words carefully. "He has very strong prejudices against Erik, as you can well imagine. He was very upset when I refused to help the prosecution..."

Varlese nodded, understanding perfectly. "That is why we have asked you here today, actually. We find it very strange that you haven't agreed to help your own side of this case and we would like to know where exactly you stand on the matter."

Christine looked at her a moment as she sorted her thoughts and tried to decide how to respond to that. Her answering words were soft, "...I am not against Erik. Some things that he did, I do not agree with, but I...I couldn't bear to see him behind bars for the rest of his life. Or worse. If I..." She paused a moment then. Her own words had thrown her off...'Or worse...' The worst could happen to Erik as a result of this case...She tried to collect her thoughts to make them make sense. "I would gladly help the defense side, however my fiancé would be very upset if I did." She pressed her lips together. "I, however, will do my part to see that he doesn't end up as most would like him to. If I am questioned, I will not say things against him..."

She had thought all this out ahead of time. A long time ahead of time. She had thought about it a lot.

"That was going to be my next question..." Varlese said, her tone disappointed. "If you would be willing to testify for the defense."

Christine looked down. "Raoul would be very upset..."

Robert Corbin chose that moment to come into the room without warning while cursing softly under his breath. "Sorry I'm late." He glanced to Christine and nodded politely.

Varlese did not stand and gestured to him as he made his way to the table. "Miss Daaé, my associate, Mr. Corbin."

"A pleasure." He offered his hand and she took it wordlessly.

Varlese looked back to her a moment before continuing with where she had been going before the interruption. "Miss Daaé, I am going to be frank with you. In our efforts to develop a defense for Erik's case, we have come up with very little. Your testimony would be of great use for his cause if you agreed to act as our witness."

Christine looked from one to the other and didn't speak for a long time as if she were debating some inner argument with herself. She had refused to take Raoul's side because she hadn't wanted to work against Erik to condemn him...But if it were truly that terrible, could she actually help him? Finally, she spoke: "I had been afraid of that...Would it even help though? I don't know much about the murders nor any of the other offenses..."

Varlese glanced to Corbin, her original doubts resurfacing, and then looked back to Christine. "Then, do you decline?"

Before she could, though, Corbin added: "Any defense in any capacity would be helpful, Miss Daaé."

Christine spoke quietly as if she were afraid her answer would be overheard and she would be stopped. "I suppose you're right...I will help him."

Both lawyers were _very_ grateful to hear that she was agreeing to testify for the defense as they could use _whatever_ help they could get. However, Varlese had her doubts about the girl's credibility. Not only was she willing to battle against her fiancé in court, but she was also agreeing to help the man who had kidnapped her on multiple occasions go free.

She wanted to be certain. "The defendant seemed to imply that it was possible you held a grudge against him."

Christine looked to her, her clear, blue eyes wide, and answered without hesitation. "I couldn't ever."

"And you would be willing to join us in fighting against your fiancé's case?"

Christine bit her lip in misgiving. "...Yes."

That was all either attorney needed to hear! It seemed as if the very air in the room became lighter and the future most certainly looked brighter. Both offered her great smiles of gratitude.

"We can't thank you enough," Varlese spoke in the first optimistic tone she had used in ages. "We will need to meet again shortly to discuss your testimony and lay out your written deposition...We can make an appointment for that say..." She flipped through her schedule, searching for the soonest free date. There was none. She would have to bump something. "Friday afternoon? At 3:30?"

"I'll try..." Christine answered hopefully. She still had her fiancé to deal with. "Count on that unless I get in contact with you beforehand."

Varlese nodded. "Of course. Thank you." She crossed out the appointment already written in for 3:30 and wrote in Daaé's name, then turned back to her. "Now...What can you tell us about the defendant? I'm afraid our knowledge of his situation is very limited, and he doesn't do much, himself, to help our efforts."

"I...I don't know where to start..." Christine was more than hesitant about giving any information about Erik. "However, if he wanted you to know, he would have told you...Try again, and if he still doesn't talk to you to help himself, then I will tell you what I know to help him."

Varlese looked at her a moment before she realized just how unaware Christine was of the nature of the situation. "It's not so much a matter of what he wants us to know, Miss Daaé, but what we can find out to use to his advantage."

"I know..." she said, apologetically, "But please try to talk to him again first."

Varlese didn't understand at all why she would want them to talk to him again first. "Well, Miss Daaé, we have tried talking to him and he is less than cooperative...Really, if you could help us, it would be much simpler."

"Not yet." For once, the girl's words were firm.

Varlese found Christine's determination very odd and glanced over to Corbin for a moment. He looked about as confused as she felt. She looked back to Christine, agreeing, as was her only choice. "Of course...Please do let us know when you are able, then."

"I will..." She stood and readied to leave. Already she was becoming edgy about how long she had been away and was worried that Raoul might have come back by now. "I will see you on Friday afternoon, then..."

Varlese stood as well and went over to the door to open it for Christine. "Yes, and thank you, once again, so much for helping us."

"You're welcome..." Christine simply stood there for a moment before moving as if she were unsure whether she truly wanted to go. "Until Friday," she added, delaying her departure just a moment longer. And then she left.

Varlese shut the door after her and looked back to her partner. "Well...That was...Well..."

Corbin understood what she meant. "...Yes. But at least we've got her word. It's better than nothing."

"Well, we'll have it on Friday at least..." She turned back to her computer to check her messages. "Perhaps, in our next meeting with Erik, he'll be a little more eager to cooperate."

"Christine seems to have an effect on him," Corbin mused. "Perhaps if we tell him she is planning to testify in his favor, he'll be more agreeable."

"Well...She had enough of an effect on him for him to kidnap her..."

He lifted his eyebrows. "I honestly don't understand why she would want to help her kidnapper."

"Well, we asked her, and she wouldn't tell us...But after she signs the papers, she'll have to disclose everything anyway."

He nodded. "Pretty little thing," he reflected. "Odd how she could get involved with someone like Erik..."

She shrugged. "Well, you know what they say about theatre people."

"I know exactly."


	3. Christine Vs Raoul

**Thirty Minutes After the Appointment**

Christine Daaé stepped out of the taxi in front of Raoul Chagny's house. It was more like a mansion than a house, really. All of the houses in this part of the city were like that. It had belonged to his family, but now he was really the only family member left living there. She had been living there with him since the night Erik had let them go. The days had been dark since then. The housekeepers only came during the daytime and Christine and Raoul generally had the huge, empty place all to themselves. Such a very huge empty place.

She took her time to pay the driver all the while hating the anticipation of not knowing whether Raoul was in there or not. As she entered the front doors, she kept her eyes downcast and focused on her feet. She hoped he wouldn't ask too many questions...It wasn't that she was afraid of him. Not at all...But she dreaded his disappointment when he found out that she had gone behind his back. She took off her coat and put it in the closet. She took her time.

Raoul had come home while Christine was out and had been waiting for her to come back ever since. He was definitely not happy to have found out that she went against his advice. From the living room, he heard her come in and immediately went out to where she was.

"I thought I told you not to go to that meeting, Chris."

She didn't look at him. She didn't have to. She could already clearly see the look of disparagement on his face. "It was something I had to do, Raoul..." She closed the closet door and looked for something else to keep herself occupied.

"You didn't tell them anything, I hope?" He didn't want to assume bad things about her. He would have liked to expect that she would support him in this.

"I didn't tell them much."

Raoul was rather aggravated. They had been through this how many times before? He went over to her and began to explain his whole standpoint once again. "Christine, they're fighting _against_ us in this...Does that make sense to you? We don't _want_ to help them."

"I'm not against them..."

He stared at her a moment, shocked by her words. She wasn't starting to change her mind, was she? He took her shoulders and turned her so that he could see her face. "Chris, we've already been over this...If you don't want to testify, that's all right, I won't make you go through that. But running over to the other side isn't going to help our case! They'll wheedle you into telling them something we don't want them to know. It would be best if you didn't have anything to do with them at all."

She bit her lip. It was a habit that she'd always employed when not quite sure of herself. Or, rather, when she was sure of herself, but not quite sure that she should be sure of herself, and wondering if, perhaps, she shouldn't be so sure after all. "It's too late for that, Raoul...I have already committed to helping them...I am to be in the office again on Friday afternoon..."

Raoul couldn't believe this! He let go of her shoulders and backed off a step. "Christine, I don't understand...What do you think you're doing? We barely escaped with our lives and now you're going to try and_ help _them?"

She stayed exactly where she was. "I _do _want to help them. If you knew Erik as I did...You'd know that it is impossible to imagine him behind bars for the rest of his life." Impossible to imagine, and terrifying to conceive. She then added the imminent foreboding, "Or worse, killed. I am his only hope, Raoul...I want him to be free."

Why did she want him to be set free? Was it because she truly cared for his well-being? Or because of the guilt? It would be her fault if the worse came to Erik. She wasn't at fault for his crimes, of course, but if it weren't for her, he would not have been caught. But then, didn't he deserve to be caught? Did all this even cross Christine's mind? Surely it did at some point.

Raoul gaped at her. He was utterly shocked that she would turn on him like this. "Free, Christine? Do you think that...Even _with _your help, he could be set free? He's a proven murderer! He threatened to blow up the whole theatre and kill thousands of people! He _killed_ my _brother_!" He shook his head, unable to continue for a moment. His initial anger for this betrayal of hers was now turning into self-pity. He was so terribly hurt that she would do this to him. "How do you think your word would save him? They aren't going to let him off just because he taught you how to sing."

Christine stared at Raoul for a moment. None of the things he'd said seemed to exist in her memory of Erik. But then...How could she have forgotten? She answered him quietly, "It's different, Raoul...I don't know how to explain it...He...He doesn't kill without reason, as awful as it sounds..." She immediately regretted her words. She would never mean to say a sin such a murder was a good thing. "Not...Not saying that anyone...deserves to die..." She had lost herself and the pained look in Raoul's usually so loving blue eyes did not help her find any sort of concentration. "Oh, Raoul! I don't know how to explain! My word will probably not help, but I'm the only person he has, Raoul!"

"Without a reason?" Raoul echoed in stunned horror. "His _reason_ was to keep you and control you, Christine! To take away your free will and force you to stay with him! There's a _reason_ that he doesn't have anybody else! Because he kills them all!" He threw up his hands in an overly dramatic display of exasperation; all of the recently repressed memories of their terrible experiences were crashing back on him. "God, he nearly cooked me alive and would have if you hadn't given in! And you're saying that's justifiable because he had a reason...? Well thank you, Christine. I love you too."

She immediately rushed to him, and wrapping her arms around him tightly, looked up at his reddened face, regretting every word she had spoken. "No, Raoul! I'm sorry!" she pleaded as she kept her eyes locked on his in sincerity. "I do love you! I just have...so much pity and sympathy for Erik...Because he's never had anyone...If you don't want me to testify for him, I won't!"

Raoul sighed in resignation, put his arms around her, and returned the embrace. Then he just held her close to him. "I know you pity him..." he said softly while his fingers stroked the golden hair that fell down her back in charming curls. "You always have...No matter how scared you were...You have such a good heart...It's one of the things I love so much about you..." He squeezed her just the slightest bit more tightly. "But I also know you want this just to be over as much as I do so that we can finally get on with our lives."

"Yes, I do..." she answered, her words slightly muffled against his shoulder. "But I'm just worried about _his_ life, Raoul..."

He kissed the top of head in a tender expression of affection. "Don't be. It's been taken out of our hands now...He will receive what the law deems that he deserves...All we need to do is tell the truth."

She lowered her eyes and wished she could only be as indifferent as he was. "So you don't want me to go on Friday afternoon..." It wasn't really a question.

He pulled back a little to look at her, surprised she was still even asking. Of _course_ he didn't want her to go! He'd thought he'd made that quite plain. He just looked at her for a couple more moments while he tried to fathom the look in her eyes. "Why don't we drive out to the country on Friday..." he offered comfortingly. "We can stay in a nice inn for the weekend and not think about any of this."

She nodded a little. "Alright...I guess I'll go call them..." She didn't sound happy.

He took her chin in his hand, gazing down at her lovely face. "You can call them later."

She looked back up at him then and couldn't keep a look of concern from her eyes, but agreed nonetheless. Of course she agreed. "Whatever you say..."

He just studied her eyes for a bit. "Won't you smile for me?"

She really didn't feel like smiling, but did so for his sake and tried very hard to make it sincere. "Just for you."

Smiles like that were simple, free joys in Raoul's life that he could never have enough of. He smiled back down at her without having to put any effort into the gesture at all. And then he kissed her.


	4. Erik Vs Corbin&Varlese

Hi again! I've gotten some questions about the title of this phic... Darkness Purged to Light... to tell the truth, I just randomly thought it up the second before I posted the first chapter ;) But my rationale was that all of the dark parts of Erik's life and such are now being brought to light... but in a way that's terrible for him... so it's like the Darkness of his life is just being Purged out into the Light, which, as we all know, is "cold, unfeeling" yes? ;)

Oh, also, just because Raoul maintains that Erik killed Philippe doesn't mean it's true... I mean... If you think about it, it IS Raoul after all ;) Erik says he didn't, Raoul thinks he did...Who can you believe? Well...Whether he did or didn't, (which is open to interpretation of Leroux and analysis of Erik's words to the Persian in Chapter 26, The End of the Ghost, in the original novel). Here, the final decision will ultimately be up to what the evidence in the court says, won't it? The jury will decide.

Much fmeek! Enjoy!

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**Five Days After the Conversation**

Robert Corbin waited for his client in the same prison meeting room they had met in the week before last. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his temples heavily. He had never really been fond of Mondays. He had been gaining hope when Christine Daaé didn't ever call to cancel her Friday afternoon appointment—until she just never showed up. They hadn't heard from her at all until just earlier that morning when she called, expressing her deepest apologies. There was something in her voice that had made it sound as if she had been crying.

Clara Varlese looked up at Corbin from the new documents she was reading as she sat on his left side at the table. "That bad, eh?"

"She backed out," he said with no real purpose. "We only have one other person. That's nothing."

Varlese shrugged and took off her reading glasses. She was well aware of the situation. "What did you expect? One is certainly one more than I ever thought we'd get."

"This is going to look bad on the records. I hate impossible cases."

Varlese had no soft spot for whiners. "Then why did you take this one?"

"I scanned the report. Didn't read it." They both knew that had nothing to do with it.

"Well, look on the bright side!" she said with mock cheerfulness. "You have a witness. And a good one too. One that knows all about Erik's past...Which is more than any of the others know...He's probably the best choice we could have gotten."

"Yeah, but it would have been good to have Daaé..." It was possible that he looked at Miss Daaé's lack of commitment as a personal failure on his part. It could have been that she hadn't thought much of them if she was disappointed with his lack of professionalism...Being late to that meeting...But it had truly seemed that she'd wanted to help Erik...Erik...Who was late again. Not that an inmate has any control over this sort of situation. "Damnit, where is he?"

Just then, the door opened and Erik was brought in precisely as he had been the time before.

Varlese leaned over to Corbin and spoke under her breath. "Well...Speaking of the devil..."

Corbin was not amused and took a deep breath. He wasn't in the mood for any crap today. He addressed Erik directly. "Please sit down."

Erik looked incredulously at Corbin and didn't sit...until the guards had left the room completely and locked the door behind. Only then did he move over to the table, slip off his handcuffs, toss them unceremoniously to the middle of the plastic tabletop, pull out the chair, and sit.

Corbin was impatient. "I'm going to be straightforward with you, Erik. We have one witness: Mr. Kahn. Miss Daaé was in our palm as for testifying in your favor, but her fiancé seems to have had a change of heart for her. Therefore, we have one."

Erik simply looked at him for a moment and took in his words before answering indolently: "Good for you."

It was starting already. "Its hardly good," Corbin said bluntly. "However, one is better than none, I guess. You are familiar with Nadir Kahn, correct?"

Was he familiar with Nadir? Erik couldn't help wondering what sort of idiotic question that was supposed to be. "You know," he began, "It would probably suit your purposes to glean at least a little common understanding or knowledge from the blatantly obvious."

Corbin rolled his eyes and moved on. "If you would refrain from sarcastic remarks, we would move through this faster. I still believe we can gain some important information from Miss Daaé."

"She actually seemed to be interested in helping us," Varlese added. "But was unwilling to go through with it."

Erik just looked at them. He didn't say anything. He didn't really have anything to say.

Corbin sighed. "Are you willing to talk today, Erik?"

"I'm speaking, aren't I?" Not that he was _willing. _But he was doing it

Now Corbin was getting angry. Mondays were just not his favorite days. He looked over to Varlese who lifted an eyebrow in response before she turned to Erik.

Why did she have to be the patient one today? "Honestly, Erik, if you don't give a damn, it would make our jobs a lot easier if you would just plea-bargain with the state, plead guilty, and we can hope they don't gas you. But since you refuse to do that, you're going to have to be a little more cooperative. We're here working for _you_. Frankly, you're lucky Mr. Corbin was even willing to take your case. I'm sure you're well aware that it was rejected by two other attorneys before he agreed."

Erik answered just as sedately as before. "I am aware."

"Would you reconsider pleading guilty?" Corbin wished he just would do it.

Erik's answer was treacherously rigid. "No. I am not changing my answer."

_God!_ "Alright then..." Corbin was really trying very hard to calm himself.

Erik chuckled at his lawyer's difficulty maintaining self-restraint. "Perhaps you had ought to go outside for a minute and have a cigarette."

He was starting to get to Varlese as well. She decided just to press on. "You are aware that the special circumstances charge means the D.A. is pressing for the death penalty, yes?"

"Yes," he said in the very same calm tone. "And?"

Varlese was once again more than frustrated and Corbin could _not _stand this! He wasn't going to stand it. He didn't have to stand it. It wasn't part of the job description.

As for Erik, he was having fun.

Corbin clenched his fists under the table. "Do you find something amusing, Erik?"

Behind the mask, Erik's golden eyes widened a little. He was most obviously amused. "No. Why do you ask?"

Varlese put a hand on Corbin's arm, warning him to stay calm and drop it.

He took a moment before speaking, and then just let it go and moved on. "No reason. We will need your statements in writing, of course, along with enough evidence to prove your claimed innocence..." Inside, he was counting to ten repeatedly.

Erik laughed that haunting laugh that neither attorney wanted to admit sent shivers down their spines. He leaned back in the chair and stretched his legs out under the table. "Good luck with _that_!" He meantthe evidence, of course, not the statements in writing.

Corbin's headache was not in a mood to play nice. "Do you honestly believe we will win this case?"

"I do very few things honestly," Erik answered offhandedly. "Believing in implausible outcomes is certainly not one of them. But..." He straightened where he sat and leaned forward, his elbows laying to rest on the tabletop. "Nothing is impossible. The two of you seem at least moderately competent. I don't mind letting you have a go at it."

Corbin sighed. "So you have no idea of any evidence in the very slightest that could possibly help your case?"

Erik tapped a finger to the dark surface of the side of his mask as he thought for a moment. "That depends entirely on your approach. What's your angle? How do you plan to go about it? Certainly you don't plan to exempt me through demonstrating my charming moral character."

"Certainly not." Corbin wasn't even trying to be nice. "We will be forced to look at the raw facts, Erik. What exactly happened in that period of time? How were the victims, if you will, killed? Things of that sort."

Corbin obviously believed Erik was guilty. Erik could tell. He sat back again and was becoming bored with these two. "Well I think it would certainly help matters if you tried to actually enjoy your job—"

"Erik! If you please!" Varlese cut him off.

He turned to look at her and she was momentarily startled by the intensity of his vicious glare. His relaxed mood instantaneously inverted itself into angered annoyance. "If you'll excuse me, I haven't killed a man in many years."

Corbin _definitely_ didn't believe that. "Of course you haven't." It was a cross between sarcasm and pacification. "And you haven't answered my question."

Erik sighed in irritation. "I've already told you. Joseph Bouquet committed suicide."

"And the other...s...?"

"Chagny drowned himself through his own incompetence, and Piangi just went..." He drew a finger across his neck in the universal signification of death and made a sound in his throat. "...Right there on the stage. Simply seeing me was enough to do it. Too many cheeseburgers and rich sweets will do that to a man." He put his hand to his heart and shook his head with disappointment. "A pity, too...He had a good voice."

Varlese wasn't buying it. "What about the rope around his neck?"

Erik waved his hand absently. "For effect...Call it a trademark...A calling card...Whatever..."

Corbin's question was almost sarcastic. "Then you put your rope around his neck as a calling card even though you didn't commit the crime?"

"Of course." It seemed perfectly logical to Erik. Though it was also just as perfectly possible that he was making up the whole story start to finish. "I had a reputation to keep, you know. It's not as if I wasn't going to knock him out anyway. And since he was so generous to die on his own like that, and the Ghost would get blamed for it as it was, might as well make it official. Use it to keep my edge."

Corbin's statement was directed more towards Varlese than to Erik. "The jury will _never _believe it."

She sighed and shook her head, unsure...She would have to check out how much the autopsy reports had revealed. She looked to Erik, frustrated with these circumstances. "It didn't occur to you that, if you were caught, it would have cinched you for murder?"

He answered almost indifferently. "I wasn't planning on getting caught. I was planning on getting married."

Corbin wasn't getting it. "The thought truly never occurred to you that you might be caught?"

Erik turned his whole head, slowly, and just looked him. He let his eyes burn into the man's skull for a long, quiet moment before speaking. "The only reason I was caught, Mr. Corbin, was because I allowed it to happen."

Corbin shook off Erik's painful stare, his eyes widening in shock. "Why?"

"You ask me why? Why? Why, because I was fool enough to hope that Fate held some small ounce of mercy for me and would let the officers' bullets strike me dead. But even that..." He lay a long, thin hand across his stomach and clasped lightly around his side, one of the places where he had been shot more lethally and where the wound from the bullet had still not quite yet healed. "Even that was not enough. Even during the span of time it took to encompass hell's blackest despair, it was all only a mockery...A farce..." The words congealed like venom as they seeped invisibly through the solid wall of the mask. "And though I had thought I had drawn my last breath, I awoke again." He let his arm slide back limply to the arm of the chair. "Surely destiny must enjoy the games she plays with my endless torment."

Corbin simply listened to him in silence. His outward expression had not changed, but inwardly there had aroused a morsel of pity. "You do not care what happens to you, then?"

"No." Did Erik mean 'No, he did not care.'? Or 'No, that's not true.'?

Corbin asked him. Erik didn't answer.

After a moment, Corbin began again, speaking with much less anger than before, "They are still inspecting the Opera House for any evidence. If we find any evidence that is in your favor...Along with Mr. Kahn's testimony...We just might have a chance..." He didn't really believe what he said...But he felt sorry for Erik somehow.

Erik did not say or do anything...Once again, he just did not have anything to do or say.

Varlese wasn't quite as impressed by the whole miserable display and had resumed reading through some reports. She glanced up from the papers. "It would also help matters if you would do your best to exhibit good behavior...This says that all four of your cellmates so far have refused to stay with you. Why? What's been going on?"

It was true. All had gone to extreme measures to be exempted from staying in the same cell as Erik and he had been staying quite alone for the past couple weeks. He preferred it that way.

He shrugged disinterestedly. "They were scared, I guess...You'd think to expect more from hardened criminals."

"Why?" Corbin could make a few guesses, but he wanted specifics.

Erik gestured vaguely to his mask. "They don't allow me to wear a mask inside...I don't know why they let me for this. I suppose they took pity on you." Of course, that wasn't the only reason all those men had been frightened away...But his lawyers didn't need to know that.

Varlese knew about his face, of course. She hadn't ever actually seen it though...Something had happened to the pictures, and the law office was still in the process of trying to figure out just where they could have gone. But either way...She didn't think it could possibly be _that_ bad.

Corbin looked at the mask for a moment, then cleared his throat and looked back down at his papers. "Yes, well...If that is brought up in court, you can calmly and politely explain it. That issue shouldn't be a problem."

Right. Erik responded in a peculiarly bitter tone: "That's what you think."

Corbin looked back up at him. "What exactly do you mean by that, Erik?"

Erik's answering glare was acidic. "_That_ _issue_ is _always_ a _problem_."

"Not in a court case," Corbin answered, edgily defensive. "They can only ask you to remove your mask. You can refuse if you feel it necessary."

Erik's hand clenched into a dangerous fist on the tabletop. "If I feel it necessary..." he repeated in black words. "Oh, I think it would be amusing, don't you? Perhaps they would all just _die_ then and there."

Corbin narrowed his eyes a little. "Calm down. I'm not trying to insult you or be sarcastic."

Erik's now dark mood was not going to change again. He reached across the table and pulled the handcuffs back towards where he sat. "Have you anything more to say today?"

Corbin glanced at Varlese. "I think we're done."

She searched through the papers quickly as she had thought there was something else, but when she couldn't find it right away, she looked up at Erik and then back over to Corbin and nodded.

Erik stood, pushing the chair back as he did and it made a harsh grating sound against the floor. He then resumed the handcuffs and they snapped around his wrists with antagonistic metallic clicks.

Corbin gathered the rest of the papers into his briefcase and went over to knock on the door in order to let the guards know that they were finished. When the officers entered to take the prisoner back, Erik went out ahead of them a bit too quickly for any of them to grasp, and the guards had to rush to catch up with him.

Once the heavy door fell shut of its own weight, Corbin shook his head a little. "Mental note to keep his face out of this..."

Varlese stood and pushed in her chair. "Oh yeah. This just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?"

"Everyday." He sounded more annoyed than anything. "I've never allowed a client to get to me like he does."

She tried not to sound patronizing for once. "I don't think it has anything to do with you allowing him..."

"Maybe not." He sighed. "Let's get out of here."

"Please." She gathered her things and headed out, holding the door for him after her.

He followed, giving her a half-amused look. "You're such a gentleman, Clara."

"Thank you, Robert."


	5. Meg Vs Christine

Hi all! A note on this chapter: I'm basing Mme. Giry and Meg off Leroux and not ALW. The only thing from ALW that I'm keeping is the idea that Meg and Christine are close friends. But otherwise, Mme. Giry is just the Box Keeper and not the ballet mistress or the holder of secret, mysterious knowledge or anything like in the musical. Since we have the Persian, it's just not needed and I always try to stay as true to the original as possible (except where this story needs added ideas for Erik's "crimes").And besides, people so rarely represent Giry as the superstitious, eccentric, little old lady Leroux wrote her to be, thatI thought it might be nice for a change. Though you won't see much of her in this chapter,she'll be back eventually.:)

Thanks to all and much fmeek!

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**Fifty-Two Hours After the Meeting**

Christine wandered into her private bedroom at the Chagny estate one late afternoon, her mind and mood profoundly beset by the thoughts and feelings that had been torturing her these last few days. She needed to talk to someone...Someone who wasn't Raoul. Her emotions so strongly conflicted with his point of view on every single issue in their lives, it seemed...But she couldn't talk to him...She needed someone else. She picked up the phone, and after a moment's hesitation, dialed the familiar number of her long-time friend and confidante, Meg Giry. She had not spoken to Meg or anyone else from the Opera since that night, and the anticipation of the impending conversation was enough to make her fingers tremble as they pressed the beeping buttons.

The line rang a few times and Christine had a sinking feeling that nobody would pick up. The only benefit of the sinking feeling was that it managed to slightly suppress the fluttering of her heart. After another moment, though, she recognized Meg's mother's voice as it answered.

"Mrs. Giry, hi!" she said as the habitual telephone mock-cheerfulness rose to her voice. "It's Christine Daaé...How are you?"

"Oh! My dear, we haven't heard from you in quite a while!" Mrs. Giry's surprise was of the overjoyed and grateful sort. "We've been fine, just fine, except...This whole terrible mess, of course. It really is quite terrible, isn't it? But how have you been? We really wish you would have called before! Meg's been quite anxious about how you've been holding up, and she wants to know about the wedding!"

Christine smiled a little and sat on the edge of the bed. It was good to hear the familiar voice again even if she had to race internally to keep up with Mrs. Giry's onslaught of questions. "I'm so sorry I haven't called!" she apologized immediately. "Things have been a little strange lately, I suppose...The wedding had to be postponed, though, until after the trial..."

"Of course, of course, dear. I understand." Mrs. Giry was sorry to hear that after all the couple had been through, they still had yet more to deal with in all of this court business.

"I will be sure to let you know all the details of the date and everything once we know for certain..."

Mrs. Giry smiled. Despite her age, she still had a tender heart for young love. "It's good to hear from you...Were you calling for Meg?"

"Yes, I was. It was nice talking with you too."

"Hold on, I'll go get her."

"Thank you." Christine waited for a couple silent moments as downy memories seeped their way into her conscious mind.

Meg's as-always over-exuberant voice called Christine's focus back to the telephone.

"Christine?"

"Meg!" Christine was just as excited to hear her friend. "How are you?"

"Christine! Oh my God! When Ma said it was you, I didn't believe it! How have you been?"

Christine's smile returned. Hearing Meg's voice was already just so refreshing. "I've missed you so much, Meg! I've been well! How are you?"

"I've missed you too! Things aren't the same at all without you! I'm alright, only...I don't know if you know? Those court-appointed lawyers called me yesterday, and they want me to testify in the trial for the Opera Ghost!"

Christine was absolutely shocked! She didn't say anything for a few moments, her mouth unable to form words. Finally, she managed, "They did...?...Are you going to?"

"Of course I am!" Meg thought the question was rather silly. "You see..." She pulled away from the phone for a moment while looking out of the room to see if her mother was anywhere near, and then continued in a voice that had lowered to an excited whisper. "They wanted Ma at first, but then they were afraid she'd probably go off the handle...And since I know just as much as she does, it doesn't make any difference, and they only needed one of us...They wanted us, you know, because the Ghost had always been so kind to Ma and me...And they thought maybe we could help people see another side of him."

"Oh, Meg!" Christine exclaimed as what had been weighing on her mind all this time suddenly burst out of her. "They're making me testify _against_ Erik! I don't want to!"

Meg gasped in abhorred surprise. "You're working for _them_?" Christine was on the _other_ side!

"I don't want to!" Christine repeated in the helpless defensiveness she had adopted since this had come about. "That's why I called, really...The prosecution...They served me subpoena. I _have _to go to court! I don't want to testify against him. I don't want anything to do with it...!"

"Didn't they want you to be on his side?" Of all people, Meg had thought Christine surely would have been testing _in favor_ of the Opera Ghost!

"Yes! That side came to me, and I was ready to testify for them...But Raoul had serious problems with that," she explained. "So I couldn't..." She didn't know how well Meg would understand the situation with Raoul, so she didn't get any more detailed than that.

"Oh...So now you're on the same side as him?" It sort of made sense to Meg...It would be difficult if Christine and Raoul were fighting against each other...

"I have to be..." Christine again felt the heaviness of the many tears she had already shed.

"Wow..." It was the only response Meg could concoct, but it fit her thoughts perfectly.

Christine sank back against the pillows of the bed and twisted the edge of one of its elegant canopied curtains agitatedly. "But, Meg, I can see it...I can imagine sitting there in the stuffy court room...And Erik's eyes on me...But looking at me differently than before. Almost...Hatefully and condemning..." She shot up again to stand and went on desperately, "I couldn't stand that, Meg!"

"God..." Meg breathed out softly, envisioning Christine's trauma. "I couldn't either...Why didn't you—Well, right...Raoul, I guess..." She couldn't see any sort of solution to her friend's problem and so she switched the topic slightly. "How are things living with him?"

Christine sighed and sat down again, slowly. "They're fine, I guess...I mean...They are absolutely fine. It's just...I hate this situation...Tell me what to do, Meg..."

It was Meg's turn to sigh...Back to the hopeless problem. "I don't know, Christine...How long have you known you have to testify for the other side?...Does _he_ know?"

"Only a few days...And no, I don't know...I haven't seen or talked to him since that night..."

"Geez..." No wonder Christine was so troubled. She only had speculation to feed her worries. Perhaps it would be better to have things laid out in the open... "Have you thought about it? I mean...I didn't know him at all, but the two of you...You were friends, right?"

Christine paused for a couple beats. Friends... "I...guess that's what it comes down to..."

Meg was thinking risky thoughts. She couldn't quite manage to put them to Christine, but instead worked up to them. "Well you could—But I don't know...I wouldn't know what to do if I were you...Do you _want_ to talk to him?"

Christine stood again to begin to pace, and the cordless phone crackled with static each time she turned. To _talk_ to him again...She had thought about it...But did she _want_ to? "I...I hadn't really...Well...Yes, I do." The conclusion was hastily reached but firmly sincere.

"Well if you do...I mean..." Meg tried to decide what she did mean. "If you really do...If you _want_ to...Why don't you? Is there a way you could call...? Do they...? Or...Maybe you could...Write a letter? What is it you want to say to him?"

"I...don't know...I guess I'd tell him what I'm telling you now...That I'm _not_ against him, but by court order, I have to testify against him..." She put a hand to her flushed cheek and stopped pacing. "I wonder what he'd say..."

Meg was wondering the exact same thing. "I couldn't begin to tell you...I never knew him...He only ever talked to Ma..." There was something she wanted to ask, but she hesitated a moment in wariness of the answer before she let out the question. "What was he like, Christine? In person, I mean...Was he really like they say...?" She meant the way he acted...Nothing else.

Christine sat back down and remained silent for several moments, just thinking...Just remembering... "He was a gentleman above all else, Meg...Very mysterious and very charming. Unlike anyone else..."

Meg thought she could sense a hint of longing in Christine's words as her voice trailed off into thought, and she was not really quite sure what to make of that. "Geez, Christine..."

Christine remained lost in reflection for several more moments and then sighed softly. "Yes...I think I should go see him..."

Meg was surprised and not sure if she'd heard her correctly. "You mean...Go down to the prison?"

"I think that would be the best way..." Christine didn't sound doubtful.

"Wow...You're a lot braver than I would be...All those criminals..."

Christine shuddered a little. "I can't think about them. Only him."

Meg repeated the words nervously. "Only him...God, it's so strange..." She curled up in the easy chair by the window and tucked her legs underneath herself. "For so long, I thought he really was a ghost...A real ghost...And he did so many things that no alive person could do...And now...To talk about him like a living, breathing person..."

"He was a ghost, Meg!" Christine answered in excitement. "He could be anything he wanted to be! He was a ghost, an angel, and a man all at once!"

Meg breathed out slowly as she let the phone cord unwind from where it had twisted around her fingers. She was unsure about this...Christine seemed so wrapped up in him still...She fully remembered the time months ago when Christine had thoroughly convinced herself and Meg that the divine voice who gave her singing lessons was the Angel of Music...Christine had worshiped that voice with every breath until she had learned the truth...Meg was doubtful about her friend's emotional position as a result of all she had been through... "Christine..."

Christine could tell most of Meg's thoughts simply by the tone of that one word. "Don't worry, Meg...It's just fond memories of him...That's all..." But _was_ that all?

"Yeah..." Meg agreed, but wasn't really able to understand. "So are you really going to go down there and see him?"

"I guess so...Yes."

"When?"

"Soon. I can't tell Raoul..."

"Oh..." Meg hadn't thought about Raoul. "He wouldn't like it, probably, huh?"

Christine smiled to herself a little. She was still the same old Meg. Her answer was gentle. "Probably not..."

"You could go when he's not home?" Meg offered.

"I will." Christine was already devising a plan of action. "He's supposed to have some kind of meeting this weekend...It might be a good time to go then."

"Wow...You have to call me back and tell me everything..." She was, after all, still the same old Meg and was still a little gossip at heart. But only a little one.

Christine couldn't help a smile. "Of course, Meg. You'll be the first one I talk to afterwards."

Meg veritably quivered at the thought of it. "Now you've made me all nervous, Christine...I'm just thinking about sitting there in court on the witness stand...And talking about him...I've always been so scared to talk about him...He's always hated it when people would talk about him...And he'll be sitting right there, watching me..."

Christine's voice was quieter. "He can be intimidating at times..."

At times! "God," Meg breathed in wonder. "I don't know how you ever could have dealt with it...I mean...I never saw him until that night...But even before that...All of us were scared to death of him..."

"He wanted it to be like that..." Christine said easily, and then went on, fondly, "He really accomplished it, didn't he?"

Meg giggled nervously. "But he wasn't always like that...?"

"No!" Christine gasped. "Not at all! He was very different from the Opera Ghost."

Meg was curious. "Like...Split personality?"

"No..." Christine wasn't quite sure how to explicate, but did her best. "The Opera Ghost was almost like a façade...A mask...To shield the man he truly was. I don't know how to explain it."

Mentally, Meg chewed on Christine's words, and physically, she chewed on the end of a piece of her dark hair. "Things are different at the Opera without him...It's like...Nothing seems to go right anymore." She sat up and went on as she brushed grey cat hair from the arm of the chair. "At first we all thought it was because we were so shaken up about the whole arrest and examination and everything...But things have settled down again mostly...And it still seems like everything is just ...Off..." She laughed uneasily as she tried to flick a piece of fur from her fingers. "I suppose I don't know how to explain it either...All the girls say the police released a curse on us when they took him away...Because he was _part_ of the Opera, you know?"

"They would say that..." The bittersweet nostalgia was warming Christine from the outside in. "Nothing is the same without Erik..."

Meg fidgeted a little as she settled back again. "You miss him...?"

Christine blinked back surprise to hear the question asked so openly. "Well...A part of me will always miss him..."

Meg wasn't so sure what to make of that...So she offered an easy answer. "He was a good teacher...?"

"Very good!" Christine was delighted. "The best on the earth, I am entirely convinced."

Meg smiled to herself as she thought about what Christine might have answered if she'd asked a different question. But he _had_ been a _good_ teacher. He had taught Christine to sing with a superhuman voice that, before, all had only thought angels could possess. "And it showed...We miss you at the Opera! Will you _ever_ come back?"

"Yes!" Christine was positive on that matter. "I miss you all very much...As soon as this blows over, I'll come back."

Meg was surprised by that. She had been thinking that Christine had probably sworn off opera forever or something after her traumatizing experiences. "Really?"

"Absolutely! I miss everyone and the Opera itself far too much to stay away for long!"

It was wonderful for Meg to hear! And such a turnaround from what she'd expected! "And Raoul is fine with that?"

"I haven't really talked to him about it..." Christine had actually tried to avoid the topic of Opera completely. Raoul had done the same. "But I'm sure it will be."

Meg was thinking about that, and she didn't see why Raoul would have any problems with Christine coming back to work. "Yeah...Now that the Ghost is gone..."

Gone... "Yes..." Christine had gone far away again.

Meg sighed and twisted in her chair. "I miss you, Christine! I suppose I'll be seeing you during this whole thing in court...But we should get together some time before that..."

Christine came back. "Yes, we should, Meg! I miss you so much! We'll have lunch...Let me give you the phone number to this house."

"Yes, please!" Meg nearly fell out of the chair as she leaned over to grab a pen. She wrote the digits on her hand as Christine gave them. Then she tossed the pen back and giggled as she looked at the number written in ink on her skin. She taunted joyfully in a singsong voice, "I have Raoul Chagny's phone number!"

Christine laughed. "Is it that special?"

Meg's black eyes danced as she gazed at the number on her palm as she turned it this way and that. "I could make quite a bit of money by selling this to the other girls in the ballet, you know!"

Christine choked in surprised amusement. "Meg Giry!"

Meg answered in heightened laughter. "I'm just kidding!...Sort of..."

Christine hadn't really laughed since the incident and was enjoying this brief detour into humor at Raoul's expense. It had always been known how the girls at the Opera fawned over him and, actually, as both knew, Meg really _could_ make some money off this number. "I can just imagine Raoul now..." Christine said between laughs. "He picks up the phone and a dozen ballet girls squeal...I love it!"

Meg couldn't contain herself at such a hilarious mental image. "I'm sure you'd just sit back with some popcorn and watch the fun, huh?"

"Yes! Of course!" Christine stifled her laughter, afraid Raoul would hear her from downstairs. "You'll have to come over and watch it with me. We can bring cameras and everything."

"Yes!" Meg nearly fell out of her chair again. "And then we'll put the pictures on the internet!"

"Naturally! And then you can sell Raoul's address! On eBay!"

Meg was suffocating on her peals of girlish giggles. "The insanity would never end! Poor Raoul!...And poor you...Everyone would be after your man!" She stopped laughing suddenly as something occurred to her. "Oh! The wedding! You _are_ inviting me, aren't you?"

"Meg!" Christine exclaimed in surprise. "Do you really need to ask that? Of course!" She leaned against the pillows again, and her eyes drifted to the sparkling ruby of her engagement ring. "Actually...I was hoping you could be my maid of honor..."

Meg gasped and leaped from her chair. "Oh my God! Christine! I've never been anyone's maid of honor before! Yes! Yes!"

"Oh, good! You'll have to go shopping with me...You'll look so pretty in your dress!"

Meg giggled excitedly. "Yes! We'll have to work out everything together!"

The conversation continued in that way with excited discussion of the details of the wedding and reception. Neither girl said anything more of Erik...But, really, it was everything unsaid that mattered.


	6. Christine Vs Erik

**Three Days After the Phone Call**

Visitors...Erik never had any visitors. Who was there to visit him? He didn't mind, though. There was no person he wanted to see...Or have see him. He would have truly preferred to simply _disappear_ from sight from the entire human race. He had always been so good at disappearing...But these days, apathetic depression was the prime element that directed his thoughts. Currently accompanying it was the cursedly masochistic perusal of his being to continue to exist. However, in the long run, he could be, or he could not be. He just didn't care anymore...There was nothing left.

But, despite all this, he _did_ have a visitor today. Or, at least, the guard had mentioned something along those lines when he had come to retrieve Erik from his cell. Erik hadn't really been paying attention and was only annoyed at being interrupted. He put on the mask when it was handed to him and allowed the handcuffs to be placed around his wrists. He didn't bother to wonder who it might be that had come to see him.

Erik followed the guard out to an area he had never seen before and entered a room when instructed to do so as the guard told him to wait there until he returned for him. Erik hoped this wouldn't take too long. The guard left and locked the door behind.

"Hey man, what's with the mask?"

Erik turned to see the only other occupant in the inner part of the room: a short, polluted looking man standing near the wall behind him. "What?"

"The mask, yo, why you wearin' a mask?" In an uncouth fashion, the man lifted his handcuffed wrists and pointed to Erik's face. He wore the same attire as every other prisoner, and Erik deduced that he was in this room waiting for the very reason that he was. Erik also thought that this man would do better to learn to not ask dangerous questions. But be entertaining.

Erik's eyes stayed perfectly level with the stranger's as he gave him a flat answer. "Because I am so extraordinarily and maddeningly good-looking that, when people see my face, they are instantly so utterly enamored with my god-like physical aspects of perfect beauty that they immediately fall into an absolutely euphoric, quasi-comatose state and cannot function normally for great lengths of time thereafter."

The man seemed stunned for a moment and tried to process Erik's very long sentence, but then eventually gave up, the task too far beyond his mental capacity. "Ha, right, man. So what you in for?"

"In for?" The inmate's despicable prepositional phrasing only added another element to Erik's disgust for this prime specimen of the base pool of humanity.

"Yeah, what you do? They got me for car jacking, man. A motherload of 'em; Beamers and Vettes and shit. I was big-time, man. Mainstream. I didn't work for nobody. But they can't prove it was me. They got nothin' on me."

"Impressive." Erik's sarcasm was dryer than sun-bleached camel bones lost in the eternally parched desert sands of the Sahara.

"Yeah, so what you do?" the man asked again, becoming curious by Erik's disinterest in sharing.

He answered in a casual, conversational tone. "Innumerable acts of grotesquely torturous and sadistically ritualistic murder."

The prisoner's eyes widened in disbelieving shock. "Damn, you serious?"

"Yes. I like to tie up my naked victims with cords wound of their own entrails that I lace through the holes I pierce in the backs of their necks with hot irons, and then I pull off each of their body parts one by one."

The prisoner looked something that was amid revolted, uncertain, and morbidly curious. "You screwing with me, man."

"Not at all." Erik continued in perfect sedation, "I start with their _fingers_ and then work my way _down. _I eventually get to _every_thing and dispose of each part _Bit...By...Bit_...But I always keep the fingers" He then eyed the man slowly from top to bottom, and the gesture sent a tremor of disgusted horror across inmate's previously callous and now slightly gleaming skin.

Erik went on. He was enjoying the results. "I like to peel apart all different types of people. Varity makes it all the more interesting, you know. And," he added, the haunting echo of his voice working its way into the other man's brain and plucking at each rising thread of fear, "Sometimes, if I can't get the skin to tear with my bare hands, I'll use some sort of _apparatus_." Erik moved a few steps forward and the other man moved just as many steps backward.

"I like to be creative," Erik continued as the man perceived him to be growing continually more excited with the recollections of his attested pre-prison actions. "And I have different _themes_."

By this point, the man's skin had paled at least five shades. Erik moved in for six. "When they finally apprehended me, I was in a phase where I was using only my vast array of home-made replicas of authentic torture devices from the Middle Ages. You do know how _delightfully_ _wicked_ the Middle Ages were, don't you? No? Perhaps I ought to _elucidate_..." His eye came to rest on the man's bound hands. "You have beautiful fingers."

The prisoner backed away as far as the wall would let him and blinked back the ribbons of cold sweat that were flowing down through his thick, black eyebrows. Speaking was an effort, but he managed it as if he knew these words would be the last he would ever utter. "You one sick freak, man. You're a freakin' twisted psycho..."

Behind the mask, Erik was smiling. "Thank you."

Another guard came just then for the prisoner, and the man rushed and stumbled out of the room so quickly that the scent of his fear still lingered a few moments behind.

Once alone, Erik learned against the wall and laughed a very strangely normal laugh before closing his eyes and reentering the secure, dark place inside his own mind.

A few minutes later, Christine Daaé took a seat at her designated booth inside the prison's visiting room. She set her small purse to the side of the narrow ledge in front of her and could vaguely see the actions mirrored in the bulletproof glass between her and the empty seat on the other side.

Her eyes roved around the empty space beyond the window, but she couldn't see much for the blinding barriers on either side of the booth. Her heart was racing as she thought about the unpredictable possibilities of the next fifteen minutes. He would be there, filling that empty space, in no time at all. She wasn't entirely sure what to expect from him...She hadn't seen him since that fateful night. At a loss for occupation, she resorted to messing with a lock of her hair as she waited for his arrival.

He saw her before she saw him. He stopped walking for a moment, too shocked to move. He hadn't known whom to expect, but _this_ was astonishing. The guard who had retrieved him from the room pushed Erik roughly against the shoulder to continue and then shoved him just as tersely into the empty chair. Erik was too stunned to object.

He just sat there and looked at her through the glass as she brushed at the end of her curl in meaningless concentration. It fell from her fingers when she saw him and though he was there in whole, her clear, blue eyes only seemed able to take him in in parts. First the cuffs on his wrists that bound those hands which had always been so full of magic...And then the absurd, bright orange clothing which they forced him to wear that was so far from his former elegance...And then the mask...The very same mask...And then his eyes. And there she stopped, locked in place. She whispered his name beneath her breath having somehow forgotten that he could not hear her through the glass.

And though he couldn't hear her, he recognized his own name on her lips. He was so astounded that she was there...That she was actually existing in space at that very moment in that very place...But it was not shock enough to keep away the joy he felt to _see_ her again...And to think that he might _hear_ her again. And yet...Between these tangled feelings, Erik felt shame. Shame that she had to see him like this...

It took him a long time before he had regained his faculties and he spoke to her, his numinous voice easily passing through the glass and meeting her on the other side.

"Christine...Why have you come here?"

She could hear him so easily above all the other voices in the room, even despite the crowded volume of each visitor trying to be heard over the others as they spoke into the telephones that connected them to the prisoners on the other side.

She picked up the receiver from the wall of the booth without taking her eyes away from his. He did the same and had to hold it with both hands because of the cuffs. His question, though simple, was suddenly extremely difficult to for her to answer at that moment, and she hesitated as long as her voice would let her before it worked its way free. "I...I've come because...Well, I'm sure you've heard that I...am on the opposite side..."

He listened, his eyes closed, and her voice, small and wavering, came to him through the line. To _hear_ her again...He imagined that she wasn't only a few inches away, just there on the other side of the glass, so close, and yet so far...Such a torturous paradox...He imagined she only spoke to him on the phone from any other location as she would have with any other person. But what she said...About being on the opposite side of the case...He _had_ heard and hadn't really been surprised...What else could he have expected? He wasn't foolish enough to hold the same hopes his lawyers did where Christine was concerned. He answered her, speaking into the phone normally, "Yes..."

She looked down for a second to gather her nerves and then back into his eyes, which he had opened again in order to cherish every aspect of her visit. She then said what she sought to say. "I just wanted you to know, Erik...That it is against my will that I am testifying against you...They served me a subpoena...And I have no choice."

"I know..." he answered. Of course he knew. Regardless of what she had wanted to do, they would have done the same. "You wanted nothing to do with any of this at all, but you really had no choice from the start...It's my fault...You shouldn't have to be a part of this..."

She shook her head a little as she watched him. "I just don't want you to have to stay here the rest of your life...Your lawyers came to me and asked me to help. I said yes in your favor, but then, well...Raoul wasn't fond of that..."

Fond of that...He tried not to put too much thought into what those words meant. He didn't want her to feel upset about this and replied softly. "Don't let it worry you...I never expected it of you to help me."

"But I want to..." she insisted, just as softly, her voice penetrating into the phone through the noises of the room. It was such a tearing feeling! She wanted to, but she couldn't...Even if it hadn't been because of her loyalty to her fiancé, they had hooked her now. "I just don't know what I can do..."

He shook his head in the same way she had, dismissing her concern as he gazed at her through the window. "You have already done more for me than I could have ever asked of you..."

She just looked at him, wordlessly for a moment and subconsciously pressed the phone a little more closely to her ear. "Erik...No, its not good enough...I don't want you to be here...I want you to be free like you used to be. This is because of me."

"No, Christine." He would not have her blaming herself for his misfortune. "Don't ever think that. There is a lot more to this...A lot more to it than anything you could have done..."

She sighed softly and was silent. She knew he had always thought too highly of her. Her only protest was a weak "Erik..."

He could hear it. She felt guilty for what had become of him...She held herself responsible...He was not going to let her agonize. He would do enough that for the both of them. "Besides, it is fitting this way..." he began as he lifted only one hand away from the phone, the cuff apparently no longer around that wrist, and gently touched the surface of the window. "This is how it began, and it seems it should end the very same way...You and I...Separated by a pane of glass..." Such a fragile thing as glass...And yet it had always provided such a barrier. It was a shield and an obstacle at the same time...Just as it had always been...Back in those days gone by when he could only watch her through the mirror in her dressing room. Such similar panes of glass...And such similar pains of memory.

Christine did not notice the second cuff hanging from the first on his hand that still held the phone. She only watched the other, thin and pale, as it lay against the glass. At the same time, deliberately and automatically, she slowly reached up and pressed her own hand against the glass where his lay. "It won't end..." she whispered into the phone. "Not like this..."

Erik didn't move his hand. When he spoke, Christine couldn't grasp the mysterious sadness in his voice. "No...It will end a very different way, won't it?"

Suddenly, she looked as though she would cry, and her fingers curled slightly against the cool surface. "No...! I won't let that happen to you!"

Erik wondered if it was guilt, pity, or suppressed emotion as his eyes took in every detail of her expression. "You have already saved me once, Christine...That is more than enough for me..."

"It's not enough for me!" She was starting to feel desperate. "Erik you have to try to win! Please don't give up hope! If you do, then there's no way you can win...I wouldn't ever live happily again if I knew that was going to be your fate..."

His fingers gently traced her hand on the opposite side of the window. She wouldn't ever live happily...Because of him. Unconsciously, his voice slipped from the phone back to the other side to be by her. It was as if even his involuntary actions knew that it was the only way he would ever be by her again. He outlined every curve of her small hand with his fingertips. "No, Christine, you will live very happily...And you won't ever worry about Erik again..." He allowed himself to look at their hands, separated by inches of glass, for one more moment before letting his slide back down to the little ledge below the window. Then only hers remained and, as he watched it, the absence of a wedding ring confirmed his previous suspicions. "Why aren't you married yet?"

She looked so saddened by his earlier words and was too upset to answer his question. Or was it that she was avoiding the answer? "I will worry about you! I always will! No matter what happens..."

_Always_...Erik couldn't help but think that always was a _very_ long time. He had wanted her to be happy...He had let her go...But how had it ended? Let her go, only to continue to _always_ hold her prisoner in worry and concern. _No matter what happens._

He was too upset to look at her and put down the phone to fix his handcuffs as he began to speak to her again on the other side of the glass. "As long as I live..." He stopped and finished the thought only mentally and said no more words. As long as he would live, she would worry, then...His memory would continue to keep her a prisoner in life as much as he was in this place. She hadn't even been able to marry yet because of all this...And he had wanted so much for her to find the happiness he could never possess... "I'm so sorry, Christine..."

She hung up her phone when he put his down; she knew it would serve her no use and he would not be able to hear her voice through the glass. She shook her head in denial, staring at him in silence as he replaced the handcuff just in time before the guard came and pulled him out of his chair. She knew there was no way he could hear her, but she spoke anyway. Softly. "Don't be sorry...I am the one who is sorry..."

As he was led away and before she was out of sight, Erik looked back at Christine, so sadly, one last time.


	7. Raoul Vs Christine

Before we begin, in answer to some questions: I have no clue whether or not Erik's seen Hannibal, but I certainly haven't! Did I write something that was Hannibal-ish? I really wouldn't know… You think Erik would have seen Hannibal? Would it be his kind ofmovie? He probably had it on DVD ::lol::

A subpoena is pretty self-explanatory… It's basically a court order that forces someone to testify whether they want to or not… And, also, gives a good basis, if that person continues to be difficult, and the lawyers get the judge's permission to treat as the person as a hostile witness, for the lawyers to be granted more liberties in questioning the person than they'd normally be allowed. So, Christine was originally planning on not going to court at all if she could avoid it, but the prosecution served her a subpoena and now she has no choice and she has to testify for the D.A., which is the state against Erik. (Hahaha! PhanPhic CAN be an educational experience!!)

Let's see… What else… ::sniffle:: I know part 6 was all sad and had such cursed foreshadowing… In the long run and short term. What do I mean by that, you ask? Well, in the long run, you'll have to wait and see, but as far as short term goes, it's all in this chapter! Yes! So read! And review! mwah!

Much fmeek!!!!!

* * *

**Twenty-Four Hours After the Visit**

In the quiet afternoon, Christine Daaé sat with Raoul Chagny on one of the couches in his enormous living room. They were reading together. That is not to say, however, that they were reading the same thing at the same time. Christine had a novel and Raoul was skimming a newspaper. He folded open another page and, where he was expecting to see the continuation of a column, only found a center section of multicolored advertisements. He pulled them out of the paper and casually tossed the loose pages over on Christine, covering her book.

She looked up and sent a playful glare in his direction, then collected the papers, wadded them up into a crumpled ball, and gently tossed it back in his lap.

Slowly, he put down the newspaper, and then he picked up the ball and looked at it as if in awe before saying, with mock admiration, "It's a work of art."

Christine smiled, and played along. "I tend to make those every now and then."

"Really?" He turned it over in his hand, examining it from every angle. "Well…It could use some work. Keep up the effort, though! I'm sure, with enough practice, you'll eventually get it down." He tossed it back at her and it rolled off the end of the couch.

In retaliation, she reached over and grabbed the sports section from his paper, balled it up, and threw it back at him again, then asked teasingly, "Is that one better?"

Raoul's eyes went wide. "Hey!" He snatched her book from her hands. "You'd better watch it or I'll make one out of this."

She laughed and reached to take it back. "I made it for you though! You don't like it?"

He clasped her hand in his before she could get the book. "I would have liked it better if I'd been able to read it first!"

"You can still read it! Just unball it." She smiled up at him.

He returned her mischievous smile but did not let go of her hand or the book. "But it will be all wrinkled and ugly…"

Christine's entire demeanor suddenly became more serious as her thoughts automatically were of Erik. "Its not a bad thing to be ugly. It can still serve its purpose, can't it?"

Raoul thought about what she said…Although thoughts of Erik were the furthest things from his mind. "Well…Yes."

"Exactly." She then reached for her book with her other hand, but the attempt was unsuccessful as Raoul held it away from her behind his back. Her playful mood returned and she put her free around him in a half embrace, and though affectionate, the action was purely in attempt to retrieve what he kept from her.

He laughed and released his clasp on her hand only to pass the book from one hand to the other in order to hold it even further away.

"Raoul!" she laughed in mock exasperation and then let go of him to go after the book with both hands.

He moved back on the couch to continue to keep it from her. "Nope, you're not going to get it!"

She laughed again gaily as she pretended to give up and fell back into her seat. There was something uncomfortable about the cushions and she reached underneath herself to pull out the squashed paper ball. "See if I ever make you a work of art again!" She then took up what was left of Raoul's newspaper and started to read that instead.

He settled next to her and began to flip through the novel, a paperback copy of Gone With the Wind. "I remember reading this…"

Christine didn't look up from the newsprint. "How is the ending? I wouldn't know. Someone stole my book."

He laughed again and held it over her, just out of reach. "And now you'll never know, will you?"

She was trying not to smile and casually turned a page in the newspaper before suddenly springing forward to make a grab at the book. Raoul caught her around the waist before she could reach it, though, and pulled her back down on the couch. He held her tightly with one arm, keeping the book at arm's length with the other. "No, I'll tell you how it ends…"

Christine couldn't help laughing as she fell back against the pillows and looked up at him. "Raoul! You'll spoil it! Don't tell me!"

"No, no! I'll tell you!" He bent close over her.

She shook her head and tried to put her hands over her ears but he prevented it. "Don't tell me!"

"I will!" He moved down to lean completely over her so that his lips were right next to her ear. "You know you want to know anyway."

She smiled as she glanced the novel from the corner of her eye and saw that it was now in reach despite the obstacle of Raoul over her. "If I'm not mistaken, Raoul Chagny, I think you're using this situation to your advantage…"

He laughed and tried his best to look innocent. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" And _now_ she grabbed at her book, finally managing to rescue it from him!

He didn't let her up but pretended to be offended. "Well, if you want it _that_ badly!…" Now that both of his arms were free, he took the opportunity to put them around her, and then turned his head to look at the book in her hand as he thought for a moment. "If I remember correctly…In the end…She finally realizes she can never have the man she loves, and then the man who does love her leaves her."

Christine's smile faded slowly. She just looked at the novel now, not at Raoul, and her voice came out much more softly. "That's a terribly sad ending…"

He kissed the side of her face a few tender times. "Yes, poor Scarlett…That's what she got for wanting too much."

Christine's words were to herself now and she hardly felt his kisses. "A good moral for us all…"

He pulled away slightly to turn her face to look at him, and although it moved at his touch, her eyes lingered on the book for a second more before she looked into his boyish blue eyes.

"Just be glad it's only a book."

She didn't answer him. Only a book…Such a terribly sad ending…That's what she got for wanting too much…She could never have the man she loves…The man who does love her leaves her…A good moral for us all…For Christine…

Raoul only smiled down at her as he had absolutely no clue what was going through her mind and was wonderfully oblivious to her sorrowful, disturbed thoughts of personal relation to the novel. He brushed a few stray strands of hair from her forehead while simply gazing at her for a couple more moments and then he leaned down again to kiss her.

But, before his lips had the chance to meet hers, the phone rang.

Christine was almost relieved by the sound. Not because of the sound itself, of course, but because of the fact that the sound caused Raoul to pull away for a moment as he looked up at the telephone on the table at the end of the couch above Christine's head. She was still thinking about the ending of the book. It was too real to her. She actually had to try to keep her voice steady. "You'd better get that…"

He turned to look back down at her. "They can leave a message."

"…It might be important. Maybe you should get it just in case."

He watched her eyes for a moment as the ringer continued to sound. For the first time now, he noticed just how withdrawn she was. The phone rang one more time before he reached over her head and picked up the cordless receiver. He then pulled his other arm out from under her and sat back on the couch against the opposite side.

He pressed the 'talk' button and put the phone to his ear. "Hello?…Yeah, it's me."

Only once he had moved away and she had relaxed, did Christine realize just how terribly tense she had been. She pushed herself back up to a seated position, and her attention drifted from Raoul back to the cover of the book she still held so tightly in her hand. She simply looked for a minute at picture of the lovers in each others arms framed by the brilliant scarlet background before opening it again. Earlier, she had been reading near the dead center of the novel, but now she turned to the last few pages and began to read silently as Raoul continued to listen to whatever was being said on the other end of the line.

He glanced over at her after another moment of silence as he spoke into the phone.

"Yes…"

If Christine hadn't been becoming so engrossed in the writing on the page, she would have probably wondered from Raoul's actions if the caller had asked about her. He stood then and went across to the other side of the room to look in the drawer of a table.

"Right…Hang on a second…" He propped the phone to his ear with his shoulder in order to sort through the contents of the drawer before finding what he was looking for. His eyes scanned a few papers, and then after a few more comments were exchanged, he wrote something down. "Okay…"

And, had Christine not now been so completely involved in Scarlett O'Hara's hopeless love triangle, she would have noticed then as Raoul suddenly turned around over there at the table and stared straight at her from across the room as he listened to what was being said on the phone. In fact, the look in his eyes at that point would have probably greatly unnerved her, but she really was far too immersed. And something about this story which she had been enjoying before now made her feel as though she would cry…But her eyes stayed dry as they scanned the meaningful words.

Raoul made a point to stay on the opposite side of the room for the remainder of the phone call and, even had Christine been listening, all of his comments then were kept too low for her to hear. By the end of the call, Raoul was obviously _not _in good spirits and his charming features were beset by a dark frown as the phone beeped when he turned it off.

The little noise caught Christine's attention and she forced herself look up from the book. Right away, of course, from the way he looked, she knew something was not right. "What's wrong, Raoul?"

He lifted his eyes from the phone, looking at her from across the room without saying anything for a moment before he answered. "That was the D.A.…"

Christine wasn't sure what to think of that…But a phone call from Erik's prosecutors could not mean anything good. "…Oh really…"

"Really." His comment was clipped and filled her with the feeling that she knew what would be coming next. She looked back down at her novel, moving the bookmark to her new page. Raoul watched her and, without realizing it, bent the antenna of the phone in his hand.

"So you went down to the prison yesterday?"

She didn't look at him and her answer was quiet. "Yes, I did."

"Why?"

She closed the book and let herself focus again on that picture on the cover. She responded simply and honestly in hopes not to make a big deal out of the matter. "I went to see Erik."

Raoul moved across the room again over to where she was sitting and put the phone back on the charger with a little more force than he'd meant to. The banging sound made Christine jump. He already _knew_ she went to go see Erik. That much was given. What he wanted to know was _why_ she went to go see Erik. So he asked again a little more crossly. "Why?"

Christine concentrated harder on the details of the book's cover. "I…wanted to talk to him. That's all. It's not important what it was about."

The words were astounding to Raoul. He stood there while looking down at her, and the distance between them couldn't have been more than two feet. He could only repeat, "Not important?…Not important?"

Christine bit her lip and went on. "It was mostly about the trial. I wanted him to know that I don't want to be against him. So I told him that…" She closed her eyes tightly and hoped her tone would calm him. "…And that was about it…"

He clenched his teeth and watched her fingers trace the title on the cover. He knew her well enough to tell when she was not telling the whole truth and the fact that she wasn't telling it now made him really rather jealously upset. "Why don't I believe you, Christine?"

She answered so softly that he could barely hear her. "You should…There wasn't much else we could do…"

Could _do_? Raoul hadn't even thought about the concept of them _doing_ anything! He raised his voice to make up for her lowering hers. "Should I? You won't even look at me!"

She sighed, but took the time to set her book aside before she looked up at him. "I didn't tell you because I knew you'd be upset…It…It was just something I had to do, so I did it…It's done now…"

Her attempts to keep Raoul from being distressed were obviously not working. "Upset? Of course I'm upset! Why would you _have_ to do something like that? If you knew I'd be upset, why did you do it in the first place? And you thought lying to me about it would make it better?"

"I didn't lie…" Christine really wished she could look away again, but forced her eyes to stay on him. "I just didn't tell you…It was less than fifteen minutes, Raoul…"

"And I suppose that makes it all right!" He was shouting now. "How often do you do this, Christine? How many times have you gone to see him?"

She answered very quietly. "Just once…Please don't yell at me…"

He lowered the volume of his voice, but the tone wasn't any less angry. "How do I know if you're telling the truth?"

The fact that he had so obediently granted her request to stop yelling gave her assurance. "You can ask Erik yourself! I've been only once."

He forced a very bitter laugh. "Right, Christine. Ask him myself. I'm so sure. Because I can trust him so much more than you?"

She stood up then and moved away from him. "Believe what you want then! I've only gone once."

He watched her back and was really not sure what to believe. "What was so important that you went to go see _him_?"

"I just told you!"

"To tell him that you aren't against him? Well I'm sorry, Christine but you _are_."

"I just wanted him to know that I didn't want to be…"

"You didn't want to be? Why in heaven's name _wouldn't_ you want to be! After all that he did to us!"

"He did so much more _for_ me than _to_ me…" These were memories Christine was not up to reliving.

He just stared at her back. "That's it then, Christine? All those things he did _for_ you? Makes you put him over me every time! Makes you go behind my back like this!" Raoul was yelling again.

She turned slowly to face him. She'd never thought he would say something so cruel. "I…I don't put him over you…"

Raoul only grew more irate at her stunned expression. "Oh really, Christine? How do I know what else you're running around and doing without telling me?"

She couldn't believe he was acting this way! She shook her head in exasperation, crying out, "Oh, Raoul, please!" She turned again to leave the room and grabbed her coat, stopping by the door to put it on. "I'm going for a walk. Alone."

He went after her, not about to let her get away and took her by the arm. "You're not going to walk out on this!"

"I'm not walking out on anything…!" She angrily tried to pull her arm from his grasp. "I do not need your permission to visit anyone…!"

He held on tightly, too upset to say anything for a moment. Or maybe it was that he didn't know what to say. He so rarely ever saw her like this…With her cheeks reddened in aggravation and her eyes flashing with resentment. Raoul was still angry, but now more just so hurt that she would do this to him…He let go of her arm and stepped back. "Fine. Go do whatever you want. See whomever you want. I don't care." He really _did _care, though, and his words were only uttered in the pain of emotional betrayal.

She watched him for another moment, not moving, and then turned, went to the door, opened it, and left. Raoul was shocked. He hadn't thought she would actually go! She just…left! Part of him wanted to run after her and beg her to come back and another part of him just wanted to shout 'Fine! Be that way!' All he did, though, was turn around and return to the other room, collapse on the couch, bury his face in a pillow, and lie there while feeling sorry for himself.

She still cared for Erik…Try as he might, Raoul couldn't look past that, and the very thought of it cut him straight to the heart. Straight to his heart…And his pride. The only thing that kept him enough at ease to keep his head was the assurance that Erik was locked up forever and there was no possible way the villain could get to Christine.

Christine, meanwhile, ran down the street until she had reached one of the main intersections. She knew where she wanted to go and felt the pockets of her coat for the hard lump of her cell phone. Finding it, she used it to call a taxi. She tried not to think about anything while she waited, but there was just so much to think about…And how…She couldn't believe that Raoul wasn't more understanding…

The taxi quickly arrived, and soon after, Christine was once again at the prison.

Inside, she went through the same procedures she had the day before in order to see Erik. However, as the woman behind the counter perused her computer screen, she frowned and popped her bubblegum loudly before looking up to Christine.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, I'm afraid that prisoner is not available today."

"…Why not?"

The woman clicked the mouse and scrolled down a little as her eyes scanned the words. "He's currently being held in the medical facilities and isn't due for release for another 24 hours."

Christine gasped, instantly alarmed. "What happened? Is he alright?"

The receptionist glanced up at Christine from the screen. "Are you family?"

Christine only hesitated a moment. "…Yes."

She nodded and looked back at the computer, perusing the recent information. "He's in recovery right now, so it looks like he'll be just fine…But as far as what happened, the report says it was attempted suicide."

Christine's mouth dropped. "Attempted…Suicide? But why?"

The woman scanned the screen. "Doesn't say…" She shrugged as she read over some of the lines and smacked her gum. "It's rarer, but not awfully uncommon with these guys…You know, like, before their trials if they're feeling hopeless about what's going to happen." She turned in the swivel chair to look back at Christine. "They'll check him out," she went on, pausing a moment to take a drink from a water bottle on the desk. "Mentally, you know, before any answer is given for certain. Usually it's built up over some time but," she screwed the cap back on the bottle and glanced back at the record, "In his case, there were none of the obvious warning signs." She scrolled down more and summed up as she read. "He seemed to be doing very stably until he was found in his cell yesterday afternoon, this says, unconscious and not breathing."

Christine pressed her hand to her mouth and her eyes grew even wider. Yesterday afternoon…But he had been fine yesterday afternoon! She had just seen him! And yet, he must have done this directly after they had spoken…Her sense of panic rose. "Please may I see him! Please! I know I'm not supposed to, but I truly believe I can help!"

The woman shook her head. "I'm sorry Ma'am, but the security in the medical facilities don't allow for visitors. If you return on Monday, you should be able to see him unless his condition gets worse and they decide to hold onto him for longer."

Christine had never before felt so afraid and concerned for Erik's well being! She nodded, repeating, "Monday…First thing…" This was almost impossible for her to believe…And to think, if she hadn't come today, she wouldn't have known. But then…Raoul had suddenly known that she had been there the day before…An alarm bell went off in Christine's mind. "Did you call m-…Did you inform the Chagny household?"

The woman shook her head again. "We wouldn't have called you or anyone personally except the lawyers involved in his case."

Christine nodded. Raoul had said it was the D.A. who'd called…So he must have been told about this and that's how he knew that she had been down here… "Yes, alright…Thank you," she said distractedly as her fingers fumbled with the straps of her jacket. "Could you at least pass a note to him for me?" She was not willing to give up.

"If you'd like to contact him via mail," the woman answered with the sort of tone that betrays just how many times she must have said these words, "You can just drop off a letter at the mail station and he'll get it with the rest of his mail."

The rest of his mail…But it was Saturday and he wouldn't get any mail until Monday…And that was when Christine was planning on coming back anyway. She would wait then… "Alright…Thank you again…"

She just couldn't imagine Erik attempting suicide…And it had been directly after she had talked with him! Christine's heart jumped as she reconsidered everything that she had said to him. Could it have been that something she'd said had triggered something in him? Try as she might while she stood there, she could not recall most of what she had said…She had just been far too shocked and concerned about him to concentrate on her own little words at the time.

Her mind was so wrapped up in fear and worry that Christine barely heard the woman as she offered directions to where she could leave a letter. And she didn't follow them, but walked back out the way she had come. She didn't call a taxi either. She didn't feel like dealing with Raoul again so soon…No, not Raoul. She just desperately needed to be by herself if she couldn't be with Erik right now. So she just walked…And continued to walk for a very long time. And she didn't realize that it had gotten dark until the streetlamps began to light. By that time, though, she had at least attempted to sort through most of her feelings…Although she still couldn't believe it that Raoul had known that Erik had tried to kill himself and yet didn't tell her. But she was starting to get cold and tired, so she called for a taxi and rode back to Raoul's house.

In her mind, she tried to replay their earlier argument, but soon her thoughts drifted to the conversation before the phone had rung. It hardly seemed possible they had been laughing and playing so easily one moment and then fighting bitterly a few minutes later…And why? Because she had visited Erik…For some reason Meg's words from the other day came back to her: 'He wouldn't like it, probably, huh?'

She hadn't told him…But he hadn't told her about Erik's attempt. But now she remembered Gone With the Wind and its terribly sad ending…But that's what Scarlett got for wanting too much.

When she came in, it was dark downstairs, so she knew Raoul must be up in his room. She shut the door quietly behind her. Most of her anger had vanished when she had been so filled with concern for Erik, but on the way home, a calmer sort of rage had formed. She walked up the stairs slowly, went down several hallways, and then stopped in front of Raoul's door and knocked lightly.

Raoul knew it was she because…Who else would it be? He had really been getting worried about her being gone so long, but now that she was back, he figured that she had come up to apologize, so he decided to remain cool. "Come in."

She opened the door and entered, but stayed near it and looked at him levelly without saying anything.

He met her eyes from over by the window. "Have a nice walk?"

"Yes. It was necessary." She waited a moment, thinking he might say something, but when he didn't, went on, "You don't have anything to tell me, do you?"

Raoul was confused. Wasn't she the one who needed to apologize? "No…What would I have to tell you?"

"Nothing at all, Raoul?" she pressed, giving him another chance. "Nothing you think I should know?"

Raoul didn't understand what she was getting at. Did she want _him_ to apologize? She was the one who was going off and seeing another man! "_I'm_ not the one who walked out on _you_."

She narrowed her eyes just a little. "I'm not talking about an apology."

"What _are_ you talking about?" Raoul was just all-over lost now.

Christine's words were strong. "Something about Erik, maybe? Something having to do with attempted suicide? Something I should know?"

_That_! How did she know? There was only one answer and Raoul didn't like it. "Where did you go?"

"It doesn't matter where I went!" Her voice was raised now. She wasn't going to let him get away with this. "You knew, and you didn't tell me!"

Raoul didn't quite match her volume. "You went back to see him again, didn't you?"

"I didn't even have the chance! He was in the hospital for his attempt!" She moved further into the room, frustrated with the awkward distance. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Raoul mirrored her action and walked towards her as well. "Why should I have told you? I was a little more concerned with the fact that you were running down there and seeing him!"

"How could you possibly be more concerned with that! It's his _life_, Raoul!" Her anger was edging on hysteria and she looked as though her tears would spill out at any second.

"Do you think I give a damn about his life?" Raoul snapped. "He never gave a damn about mine!"

"He did! He let you go!" she insisted. "He could have killed you with a flick of his wrist! But he didn't!"

"But he was going to!" Raoul cut her off before she could continue. "He's a cold-hearted murderer! He doesn't care about the peoples' lives he's taken, so why should I care if he tries to take his own? And why should I tell you about it? It only gives you more reason to pity him! God knows he probably did it on purpose just to get you to feel sorry for him!"

"He would _never_ do that!" Christine was aghast. "He never wanted pity from me! Only love!" Her excited words grew immediately soft and she looked away. She had surprised herself. She said it again but in whispered thought and not to him. "All he wanted was love…"

Raoul looked almost as though he were going to cry as well. His question was bitter. "And you do love him, don't you?"

She turned slowly and looked back over at him. All of her rage was gone suddenly as she took in the expression in his eyes. She moved closer to him to close the distance between them and did not take her eyes from his. "I love _you_."

She hadn't answered his question. "There shouldn't be any doubt with love, Christine."

She only stopped moving when she stood directly before him. "I said I love you…"

He watched her and his words were spoken more sadly now…Hardly accusing, they were even soft and filled with emotion. "How do I know that? If he wasn't in jail and you could be with him, how do I know that that's not where you'd rather be?"

She answered with absolutely no doubt in her voice. "Because I've had that choice, and I could be with him now…But I'm with you." And yet, she still had not answered his question.

His eyes stayed on her a moment more. How could he not believe her? He loved her. Finally, he sighed and looked down. "I didn't tell you…because they said he was all right…And that was just one more thing I didn't want you to have to worry about…"

Christine echoed his sigh and moved in to embrace him. She spoke quietly, "I understand…I should have told you that I went to see him…But I guess I didn't for the same reason you didn't tell me. There is nothing to worry about…"

Raoul put his arms around her and held her gently close. He closed his eyes and knew that there was nothing to worry about because Erik was in jail and Erik was going to die…But Raoul also knew that that was not what Christine meant…And he knew that the difference between the reasons was what mattered…But then, really, he knew it wouldn't matter…And, really, there _was_ nothing to worry about. Because, either way, soon, Erik would be gone forever.

"I love you, Christine."

She laid her head to rest against his chest, closed her eyes, and tightened the embrace. "I love you too."

But she had still not answered his question. What would Christine get for wanting too much?


	8. Erik Vs Feilds

Hi all!! More Erik in this chapter! Whoohoo! Everyone loves Erik!! :) Who thought Erik's attempt last chapter seemed maybe out of character? Really, I mean, we all know Erik! He'd never do something like that... So I'm sure you're all wondering just what your Scorpion was thinking when she wrote it...Wellllll you weren't the only ones who were wondering! In this chapter, a well-meaning psychiatrist talks to Erik to get his reasoning out of him... Special thanks to Krista for her rp contribution of the character of Dr. Fields!

Love, fmeek, and cookies!!

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**Three Days After the Argument**

Dr. James Fields was a tall man with light blonde hair and dark brown eyes. Somewhere in his late thirties, his vocation shone in the field of psychiatry. It wasn't that he had any sort of particular affinity for inmates, but it seemed that psychological analyses of prisoners was just the living fate had chosen for him. Maybe he believed in fate, but that wasn't the big question; the question was Why? Always: Why? And he was good at answering that question. Why do certain people indulge in sudden and abnormal behavior? Dangerous behavior? Threatening behavior? Why did this man, Erik (No Given Surname) as the report called him, attempt suicide four days ago? He would find out. It wasn't so difficult, really. The trick was that it was actually rather simple. There were only two possible answers to the question: A logical explanation or Insanity.

The room itself was bare; cheap table, a couple chairs, grey walls, no window, a security camera in the corner, you know the sort. Today the camera was unplugged. Confidentiality regulations were specific about such matters.

Fields's coffee was getting cold, and he regretted not having put a top on the cup to keep the steam from escaping. He didn't mind waiting while the security guards took their time to bring Erik (No Given Surname) to his Tuesday morning psychiatric analysis appointment; Fields only had more time to think that way. Thinking was critical, after all. He'd always believed that the most cherished thing a person possessed was the absolute and complete control over his own mind. And the loss of that control, so to say insanity, was perhaps the greatest tragedy of all. But that was what made it also the greatest curiosity...

Thoughts about thoughts were cut short at last by the arrival of Erik (No Given Surname). Two things Fields noticed off the bat: The man did not exactly seem in top physical condition to phrase the observation mildly...Though gloriously tall in stature, there were obvious characteristics about his movements that betrayed a weakened aspect of his figure. Of course, such a condition was completely to be expected after the severe medical treatments that had been administered to Erik (No Given Surname) in order to revive him from his handshake with death. According to the reports, the call had been closer than close. Most men would not have survived whatever it was that Erik (No Given Surname) had done to himself, but as one of the medical analysts had said probably only half in jest, Erik must have had the inherit physical prowess of an immortal. The sad thing, at least to Erik's perception, was that the fact was true...And his attempted suicide had failed quite successfully.

The second thing about Erik (No Given Surname) that Fields noticed was his mask.

It was this second thing that sparked his interest, but the one he addressed, as soon as the guards had gone, was the first:

"Hello Erik; how do you feel today?"

Erik kept his eyes on the doctor as he took his seat on the opposite side of the table. "The same way I always do. Usually with my hands. Though if you would like me to be more specific, the nerve endings under my skin transmit signals to my brain and thereby alert my sense of touch that something has been felt."

Fields lifted an eyebrow. He had been hoping today's examination perhaps wouldn't be difficult, but was already now foreseeing otherwise. "Are you generally this sarcastic?"

Erik answered with sarcasm simply for the sake of answering with sarcasm. "Not at all."

"Then this is special just for me? Thank you." Fields straightened the papers in front of him as he took a moment to assess the few exchanges that had been made so far and to decide upon a method of approach. He was used to embittered and sardonic patients and knew well how to deal with them. In fact, it was very common for the patient to feel resentful of his evaluation and take out that antipathy on the evaluator (In this case, Fields) himself in such a fashion. It was only a matter of determining the accurate motive for the accompanying derisive actions and comments. And that was, of course, where Fields excelled.

Erik said nothing in response to his examiner's comment and only continued to study the doctor in that way of his that seems to have the inconvenient side-effect of making the objects of his study slightly hot under the collar.

"I was simply curious about your physical state..." Fields explained his first question. "I understand you tried to kill yourself last week." As he spoke, he watched closely to judge Erik's reaction to the words. The answer to the big question, you see, wasn't always in the words, but even more in the body language. Fields was keen on that matter. Also, it was to look to Mr. (No Given Surname)'s actions that Fields attempted to deduce if Erik's sarcasm was possibly a front hiding something invaluable.

Erik leaned back a little where he sat. "Do you? Well then, your abilities of factual comprehension seem to be working normally."

"They usually are," Fields answered simply. Before he continued, though, he wanted to make certain that Erik (No Given Surname) had been informed of the implications of their meeting today. "In light of this attempt, however, you have to talk with me."

Erik knew that. So he didn't say anything. But he was still watching Fields. The way a tiger watches the supple and meaty hand that feeds it.

Now Fields was both put a bit on edge and not sure whether Erik (No Given Surname) had been properly notified or not. Perhaps he should have said something in the beginning... "You were informed of this?"

"It was mentioned to me."

Fields's task, initially, was to gain Erik's trust enough in order to get the patient to confide in him his reason for trying to kill himself. However, Fields didn't see that happening any time soon. He postponed that operation and decided to take the direct route for the time being. "So what drove you to try taking your life, Erik?" Getting personal sometimes helped. If Fields could make his patient feel he was on a more equal level with him, create a less tense atmosphere in the room, but still get to the point, he might just get somewhere. So, expecting a personal answer from Erik, Fields clasped his hands on the table and leaned forward slightly.

"The desire to be dead." Erik's dryly spoken equivocal answer was beyond disappointing.

"Clearly." Fields sat straight again. He tried not to be affected and asked the next logical question, "What created that desire?"

"A distaste for being alive."

That was even worse...Fields was not sure whether to be amused or irritated now at Erik's purposeful and very successful attempts to be a pain in the ass.

"And why would you have a distaste for being alive?"

"At this moment? Because I happen to find your questioning annoying."

Fields unfolded his hands and decided to throw in his next card. "Did Miss Daaé annoy you? You had a visit from her shortly before your attempt, did you not?"

A little button pushing...As Fields watched this illusive and enigmatic Erik (No Given Surname) closely, he caught the intense narrowing of the eyes behind that mask. Could this be the right button?

"I did."

So Miss Daaé was a sensitive subject...Might be the right button. "So did her visit have some bearing on your distaste for living?"

"No, I actually happen to be fond of Miss Daaé." They must have been the most commonplace words Erik had uttered yet.

Not the right button... "So why the sudden desire to be dead?" Fields was pressing a bit harder now.

Erik only shrugged his shoulders a little and answered with dull patronization. "Perhaps I somehow subconsciously and psychically knew that if I did, I would be able to be here today talking to your wonderful personage."

So Mr. (No Given Surname) seemed to find himself funny. Fields didn't share the opinion. His responding words were flat. "I am flattered."

"If you were flattered by _that_, I really do pity you." Erik shook his head, disappointedly. "Perhaps you ought to get out more."

Fields wasn't interested in Erik (No Given Surname)'s mock pity. "Not really. But you seem to enjoy being humored." He needed to get back to the question at hand.

Erik didn't say anything to acknowledge Fields's low blow and continued to stare at the doctor while absently tapping a finger against the top of the table.

The doctor watched his patient for a moment without speaking. To be honest, he was a little at a loss for what to say next. He had to gauge Erik's array of reactions just enough to decide where to take his angle. It was obvious now this patient wasn't about to be taken in by any ruses. It seemed that Erik (No Given Surname) knew exactly where Fields was going...So Fields might as well get there.

"Do you still have that distaste for living?"

"Well, considering that you're still asking me questions..."

Fields only responded with a slight shrug before speaking. He had seen a vast selection of psychologically disturbed prisoners in his day. Why should this one affect him any differently? "I'm just doing my job...They are paying me to annoy you with my questions."

"Do you enjoy your job?"

"Immensely." The patient was asking questions! Fields saw that he could use this advantage to attempt to gain Erik's trust now. If Erik truly took and interest in the doctor, then a friendly conversation could open up avenues to progress in Fields ultimate goal here. The only problem was that Erik truly didn't give a damn about Dr. James Fields...But Dr. Fields didn't know that.

"How refreshing to hear in today's world," Erik answered in a perfectly relaxed tone as if he really did think it was refreshing. "Have you always wanted to pursue this area of employment?"

Fields was a little confused. Not by the question so much, but more by the fact that Erik had asked it. "Which area do you refer to? The field of psychiatry or to sit here and irritate you?"

Erik was patient with him. "This division of psychiatry."

Fields saw no harm in answering and did so rather candidly. All to give Erik more comfort in conversation with him, of course. "Yes, since I was seven years old."

As far as Fields could tell, Erik seemed genuinely interested. "Oh really?" Erik was talented at _seeming_. "And what happened when you were seven to bring you to such a decision?"

"I talked someone out of committing suicide." Fields was only being honest.

Erik nodded understandingly. "That must have been a very pivotal point in your life."

"It was." Fields was quite muddled now and wondered just how the conversation had so completely turned from Erik's death wish to Fields's own childhood. He was attempting to insert a link back to the main subject as Erik rested his elbows on the table and lightly tapped his fingers together.

"So you've had a lot of personal acquaintance with the matters of suicide." The mocking tone was only now just vaguely noticeable in Erik's words. And there was something about his next question that filled Fields with a distinctive sense of darkness. "Tell me, Doctor, have you ever felt the desire to be suicidal yourself?"

Fields shook his head a little, trying to push off the intonation of Erik's voice. He saw an opportunity now to regain the upper hand. "No I haven't, but I always wonder what causes one to become suicidal...What was it for you?"

_Now_ he was back to Erik!

Erik laughed and sat back again. "A lack of sanity, perhaps? That is what you're getting at, isn't it, Dr. Fields?" Erik saw no sense in beating around the bush, after all.

Fields was not calling Erik insane and he did not appreciate Erik accusing him of saying so. However, if Fields could not derive a logical explanation for Erik's attempted suicide, there was only one other possible answer to the question. Fields chose his words carefully:

"Since I've not gotten a straight answer from you, I don't seem to be getting at anything at the moment."

Allowing the doctor to get at nothing, of course, was Erik's precise intention. "That must not make you a very good psychiatrist."

"Perhaps..." Fields wasn't about to allow this patient to offend him and continued to display nothing other than collected calmness in his outward expression. It should have been so incredibly simple...So why did he have to so strongly remind himself that this was what he was supposed to be good at?

Erik wasn't put off a bit. However, he was becoming a little tired of this inquisition. He was not much longer particularly feeling obligated to stay on an even battleground with his opponent here and certainly wasn't above using the magic that was his voice to hasten the meeting's closure. "Perhaps you had better leave..."

Fields didn't quite understand the urging effect the cadence of Erik's words unexpectedly had on his sudden desire to get up and walk out of the room...But he was a professional in the area of the mind and pushed the strange feelings aside and only responded to the words themselves. "You aren't enjoying our little chat as much as I am?"

"Oh forgive me," Erik all but scoffed. "I didn't know you were here to be amused."

"You certainly seem to be amused."

Erik's irritation was growing. He did not feel well at all and felt his usual good humor and impeccable patience were worn threadbare. Usually when he fought a skirmish of wits, he liked to play fair, but Erik hadn't had a very pleasant last few days. For that matter, Erik hadn't had a very pleasant last few months. And for _that _matter, Erik sure as hell hadn't had a very damn pleasant life. For the moment, he let his bad mood take over and glared threateningly at Dr. Fields. "Do you know what I do to people like you?"

It wasn't that Fields didn't feel threatened...No, he felt exceedingly threatened...But he was Dr. James Fields, master of the human mind! He reminded himself assuredly that it was he who held the power in this situation. One raised word and the guards would be back in the room, and Mr. Erik (No Given Surname) would be locked in one of the padded white chambers of an asylum for eternity. The assurance was enough for Fields to keep his expression cool and his tone even. "Why don't you enlighten me? It could certainly get you declared insane if that is what you want."

What Erik did want...What could Dr. Fields know of what Erik might want? Perhaps Erik wanted to see the life slowly fade from Fields's dark brown eyes as the light blonde hair over his skull turned red with thick blood. Or perhaps Erik only wanted a glass of water. Not once had Erik ever been offered a glass of water...

The continually lengthening moment of silence that was rent blacker and blacker by Erik's unbroken, glowing glare was shattered, suddenly and gradually in the same nonsensical sense, by the hauntingly light laughter that rose out of the grey walls and richened the cheap table.

It took Fields a moment to realize that Erik was laughing at him, and when he did realize it, he wasn't sure whether to be insulted, relieved, or offended... "Delighted I could amuse you."

And Erik was highly amused! He continued to laugh for a couple more minutes until he felt the need to suppress an irksome cough that had beset him since they'd so kindly purged his system the other day to save his life. He stood then and stepped away from the table.

Fields watched him closely. "Does this mean you don't want to chat any longer? I was really hoping to get an answer to my question."

"And what if you don't?" Erik actually wanted to know.

Fields made a point to stay seated. "I tell those nice guards on the other side of the door that I think you are still suicidal, and you get put back on suicide watch with no visitors. Is that what you want, Erik?"

That was not what Erik wanted. But there was more than one end to these means. "I am not suicidal and have never been suicidal."

"If that were true, you wouldn't have tried to commit suicide."

Erik answered quickly and rhetorically. "Wouldn't I have?"

"I don't believe so..." Now Fields wasn't at all very sure...

"What one believes is not always what is." Erik absently paced to the other side of the room. Wouldn't he have...That was the question...That was the answer. His next inquiry appeared rather random:

"Do you believe in God?"

"Most days. Do you?" Could religion be part of the answer? Fields tried to catch at this opportunity...It seemed as if Erik might confide in him after all.

And perhaps Erik was about to...Or perhaps he was only processing his own thoughts. Did he believe in God? It depended on the day of the week. Internally, he laughed at the cynicism of his own mental answer. He had been raised by a devout Catholic mother who'd instilled in him all the horrors and punishments of religion, but he had learned at such an early age to forsake God...It was a few more moments before he spoke again:

"Do you believe in Hell?"

Fields was disappointed to have not received an answer to his question. "I haven't decided that yet." What did Hell have to do with suicide? "Do you?"

Erik turned around and looked at the other man. His manner had changed completely. "If you are such a highly skilled professional, why can't you ask your own questions?"

Fields smirked slightly. "I tried that earlier, but since you didn't seem to wish to answer my questions, I thought I'd try yours. You don't like that?"

Erik folded his arms across his chest. "What do people usually tell you when you ask your questions?"

Fields wasn't quite sure what Erik was getting at... "It depends."

"Pick one." The impatience in Erik's command lent an even sharper edge to the score of his words.

"In my prison work," Fields explained honestly, "They tell me as little as they can get away with."

"And you need something to tell your guards..." The statement was thoughtful as well as persuasive.

Fields didn't seem to pick up on either aspect. "The guards, your lawyers, the prosecutors..."

Erik made his way back to the table and shrugged his shoulders casually as if he could see the future perfectly. "Well, I don't care what you choose; tell them whatever it takes to make them lower their guard over me."

Fields wasn't quite sure if Erik meant what he seemed to mean. "Then I suggest you give me some reason to tell them you won't try to kill yourself again."

But Erik was getting at something. "I'm sure you've heard enough in your day to make one up yourself."

"I don't make up anything I put in my report." Fields took a brief moment to make sure all of his judgments were in order. "It wouldn't make me a very good psychiatrist."

But that was the point. Erik didn't need this man to be a good psychiatrist; Fields would serve Erik perfectly well if he could be a good contrivance. Erik put his hands on the table and leaned forward to minimize the distance his penetrating gaze needed to slice into the psychiatrist's psyche. Without a single red flag of warning, Erik drew his most powerful weapon and instantaneously pulled Dr. Fields under the hypnotic control of his voice.

"_You will this time_."

It was pathetic, really...In an instant, Dr. James Fields, mental master, had lost that complete control over his own mind that he had always so highly esteemed. In a few simple words from Erik's inhuman lips, this man, whose life had been devoted to the study of the human mind since the age of seven, had become nothing more than a senseless puppet. The doctor's eyes fluttered slowly and he gave no verbal response.

Erik's tone deepened, and he twisted the particular aspect of his vocal power from creating inaction to promoting reaction. "You will tell them whatever it takes. You will make them believe that there is no danger whatsoever. And you will never remember the truth." And that wonderful, magical mental manipulation was becoming perfectly effective. "Do we have an understanding?"

Fields's hesitant and partial word was soft, "Ye—..." He shook his head vaguely, cutting himself off. From his point of view, he was having a dreadfully difficult time of seeing through his confusion. Erik had taken complete hold of the psychiatrist's reason.

It was a simple matter for Erik to intensify his power and he repeated the question to make certain there was no disagreement on the matter. "Answer me. Do we have an understanding?"

Field's answer then was austere, obedient, and just barely audible. "Yes."

The poor shrink was no match for Erik.

"Good." Erik sat back in the chair again as he had been and let Fields return to himself. When he saw the sense of comprehension reappear in his conquered opponent's eyes, he spoke as if the initial conversation had never been interrupted. "Do you have any more questions for me, Doctor?"

"No, I don't believe so," Fields answered with his inherent air of confidence as he thought to himself that his meeting with the numinous Erik (No Given Surname) had gone rather well.

And it had.

Not that Fields would ever remember the truth, of course.


	9. Nadir Vs Erik

Hi all! I just wanted to say thanks to Cree, who stepped into the Persian's shoes for this chapter! He's finally here! Yes!! And more Erik!! We all love Erik! And guess what! He's not so much a mordant arse in this chapter! ::gasp!:: Since Leroux doesn't give the Persian a name, I'm using Kay's. (As I will fill in names for characters who don't have them based off Kay and ALW as the story continues). I actually wrote this chapter before the last one, but it wouldn't work in the timeline, so I held onto it for a bit and then changed a couple things to make it work. So we move on! To Tuesday afternoon! This is the longest chapter yet!...Maybe a little too long ::lol:: But it's allllllllll Erik and now we finally find out why Erik ever would have tried to kill himself on Friday afternoon! About time!

Happy reading and much fmeek!! And! Oh, say... Ten times the fmeek to those who review!! ;)

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**Four Hours After the Analysis**

It was dark in Erik's cell. He wanted it that way. In fact, he had broken the light bulbs in the ceiling to keep it that way. Oh, they had replaced them quickly the first few times he had done it, but after the fifth time, they had given up...Not that they really cared. If Erik wanted it in the dark, let Erik have it in the dark. And so Erik had it in the dark.

The only light in the little, enclosed room now came from the small window at the top of the cell's back wall, the smaller window in the door of the cell, and the two even smaller windows to Erik's soul. His two eyes shone like stars in the night...Like twin candle flames...Only, they didn't dance. In fact, nothing moved in this place. All was still and all was silent. Erik himself sat undyingly immobile upon two stacked mattresses with his back against the wall. He was able to sit on two mattresses, you see, because he continued to remain alone in the cell that was intended for two people. The actual metal frames of the beds had been dismantled and now lay in an ordered pile near the opposite wall. A few of the pieces had been twisted into odd shapes at one point, but all now lay under a film of grey dust.

Why were they like that? Who knows? Well...Erik knew.

But Erik wasn't thinking about that right now. Something had started moving in the room, and the rustling of tiny feet that scuttled across the floor pricked Erik's ears. Erik remained perfectly motionless, but his eyes followed the cockroach as it made a straight line for the browning slice of apple that lay near Erik's limp hand. He only watched the insect for a minute or so as it nibbled contentedly on the piece of fruit in the dark. Erik thought how pathetic it was that this tiny creature truly thought itself alone and safe as long as it was in the dark and nothing moved. Life could be so deceiving that way...

In a flash that the cockroach's little brain could not comprehend, Erik had snatched up its tiny body between his thumb and forefinger. He held it up gently and the poor insect's legs wriggled in that insectual equivalent of fear. He could tell this was a female.

"Despicable..." Erik whispered softly as he watched the roach's antennae writhe in panic. The pitiable thing was quite at a loss and quite completely at Erik's mercy. But, you see, it wasn't the animal itself that Erik considered despicable. No...It was the poor thing's condition.

Erik rose then, from the mattresses, and he made his way to the window in the back wall, captive in hand. He opened the high window the little amount that it allowed for opening, and let the cockroach out between the bars. He didn't watch her as she made her escape and only shook his head and muttered again:

"Dreadful..."

He shut the window and, when he looked back, he saw that another cockroach had already found the slice of apple. He was a little surprised. But before he had much time to think about the matter, the door to his cell was flung open and the dark interior was flooded with the harsh light from the corridor outside. The instant the gleam fell across the mattresses, the insect darted out of its reach in the direction of the protected, dark corner behind the door. However, before it quite made it through the patches of light and shadow on its way to safety, the prison guard, the one causing the shadow that stretched into the room amid the glowing cascade, crushed the cockroach under his shoe.

"Damn roaches."

The man grumbled as he made an attempt to scrape the bug's sticky guts from his shoe to the floor.

Erik frowned.

It wouldn't be accurate to say that the guard could see the contempt written on Erik's face, for whatever expression might happen the be on Erik's face, the guard certainly wouldn't be able to make out. Actually, he would have preferred not to have to look at Erik's face at all...However, the fact that Erik's gaze stayed so devoutly trained on the remains of the cockroach was enough for the guard to deduce that this prisoner did not approve of the insect's untimely execution.

The guard laughed. "Was that a friend of yours?"

Erik shrugged and looked back away to the dark side of the room. "One lives, one dies; what does it matter? There are so many of them, aren't there?" He placed his hands on either side of the white porcelain sink basin in the corner of the cell, and his words dropped down the drainpipe. "And they all look the same..."

Before the guard could say anything, Erik turned the handle of the faucet and rinsed off his hands under the cold stream of water.

"Hey, prick, I don't have all day," the guard barked as Erik took his time to turn off the water. "Come on." He then flung the black mask across the room, Frisbee style, straight for the back of Erik's head.

Without turning, Erik reached behind and caught it, stopping its shameful flight and put it on before he made a move. Once it was securely in place, he made his way to the door where the guard continued to lurk. Though both men saw just about perfectly eye-to-eye, the guard was easily twice Erik's size and half Erik's age. Erik could have killed him effortlessly...Not that the thought crossed Erik's mind.

The big, young guard took Erik's intended handcuffs and motioned for his prisoner to hold up his hands.

Erik sighed. "This isn't necessary..."

"Yes it is," the guard replied gruffly as he snapped the cuffs around Erik's wrists, "Ever since you took out those security officers two weeks ago, it is."

Erik tugged at the chain of the cuffs lightly. "And you think this would be what would stop me from doing it again?" The handcuffs were pointless and, Erik thought, rather ridiculous. What could they possibly offer any opposing party other than a false sense of security? Though as far as threat from Erik was concerned at the moment, all possible opposing parties were safe. He still felt considerably tired and weak right now...It would be a short while before he had completely recovered from the weekend's tumultuous events.

"I you have a problem with it," the guard snorted, "I can get you a straightjacket."

Erik shrugged, uninterested; but then his eye caught the clock on the far end of the corridor, and he saw that it was not a usual time for him to be going anywhere. "Where are you taking me?" he asked, more annoyed now.

The guard pushed Erik out of the room and started down the passage. He didn't bother to answer with any more than one word: "Visiting."

Erik stopped. He had a visitor!

"Christine...No..." he only barely breathed the words in shock. The last person he felt he could see now was Christine! Why would she come back? He couldn't see her again! He couldn't see those tears in her eyes again! He could hear her ask why he'd tried to die...Did she know? Had she heard about it? Would they have told her? It was possible...But it was also possible she knew nothing at all...

"Move it, prick, or I take you back and you don't get to see nobody."

Erik glanced at the guard. Back...Perhaps that would be best...He couldn't see her, hear her now...Not now. Not like this...

...But _she_ had come to see _him..._And Erik realized with abysmal dismay that he couldn't _not_ see her. There was nothing he could deny her...And if he did not see her, she might become worried or upset...What _could_ he do?

The lesser of two evils...Erik walked.

The guard continued on ahead of him. "There you go. Make my day easier. And you never know, might be something good in it for you. Your bitch could get a little phone frisky for you." He ceased talking to focus his concentration on unlocking the passage door.

Erik stopped again. The cuffs around his wrists suddenly felt _very_ effortless to remove. He didn't say a word as the guard pushed open the door. He didn't have to. The burning desire to inflict immense pain carried well enough on its own. Erik could have killed him so easily...And this time, the thought _did_ cross his mind.

The only thing that kept him from action was the thought of Christine waiting there at that booth...And when he reached the place and saw that she was not the one there, the immense relief he felt was laced with a heavy disappointment.

Yes, Christine was not the one who had come to see Erik. It was Nadir.

Nadir Kahn had been waiting on the free side of the bulletproof glass window for a good few minutes before he saw Erik and the officer approach. The image was virtually unreal to him. Seeing Erik this way was so...out of context. Nadir couldn't think of any other way to put it. The aesthetical ambiance of Erik demanded the extravagance of silken hangings and exotic creatures or the dark and mysterious framing of the eerie light of the cellars of his subterranean empire. The vision that greeted him now was just...wrong! All wrong! And it was sickening.

The guard gleaned one last delight in pushing Erik into the seat before he left, and Erik decided then that the young man would just have to be dealt with in the near future.

Erik looked at the man on the other side of the window who he had, at one time, considered his only worldly friend, and at another time one of his greatest adversaries. He was annoyed with himself for having become so worried at the prospect of the visitor being Christine. Of course it wouldn't have been her. He should have known better than that. But what was the meaning of this? As he reached for the phone, he spoke to Nadir through the glass:

"What are you doing here?"

Nadir picked up the receiver on his side while doing his best not to portray his shock at Erik's attire. He took only a brief moment as he forced himself to get over it and cut right to the chase, speaking into the phone, "I read about your attempted suicide in the newspaper."

So that was why he was here. Erik should have known. What else could Nadir want but to put his nose in Erik's business as always? Even in such a personal situation, Erik could not find peace from this man who made it his life's work to be a pest. He had not seen nor heard from him in over a month, and now he had shown up with his interrogating watch and his damnable notebook. It was a fine thing, Erik thought, for a man who had called himself a friend! But then, the board had been swept clean that night. Who was to say where the pieces had fallen...

However...Hearing Nadir mention the suicide like that really bothered Erik somehow...And so he responded with that defensive nonchalance that had never quite proved an effective enough shield against Nadir's attacks. "I'm sure a lot of people did."

Nadir's voice remained level and calm, but he could not keep a look of disappointed regret from his eyes. "Why now, Erik?"

Erik didn't feel up to this. "Don't look at me like that."

Nadir didn't look away. "I'm only looking at you as a concerned friend would."

"You, my friend," Erik began as if it were a highly ironical thing to say, "have no reason to be concerned." He knew what would come next and he didn't particularly want to hear it, but before he could kill the impending, Nadir sighed and responded.

"Look at yourself, Erik. You've never seriously attempted committed suicide before in my knowledge, though you've always wanted to..." He had never known Erik to be terribly enthusiastic with his life, but he did know that Erik had never before been willing to risk eternity's automatic judgment and sentence that was allotted to those who took their own lives. But something must have changed...Something to make him abandon the resolve that had always made him keep the unredeemable sin of suicide at arm's length. "What happened that suddenly made you not fear hell?"

Erik narrowed his eyes. Nadir knew what he was talking about far too well, but Erik's reasoning was none of Nadir's business and Erik was not about to share it with this man nor anyone else.

"I would hardly call the feelings sudden," Erik snapped. He then dropped the handcuffs onto the narrow counter as if they were a piece of trash. "And even hell would be better than _this_."

Nadir's eye lingered on the handcuffs for a moment. Erik's same old ways... "Haven't you even thought about Miss Daaé? I can tell you from my short encounter with her, that this would upset her greatly."

Erik laughed at that. "Upset her greatly!" What an absolutely absurd question! As if Erik even thought about anything else.

"You disagree?"

Nadir really wasn't about to leave Erik very much of a choice, now was he...How was it that Erik had so quickly wound up on the defensive? "She may shed a few gentle tears over my grave," he conceded, "But I tell you, my _life_ is what is keeping her from happiness."

"Ah, so that's it then," Nadir said quickly with bland rhetoric. "You can't talk to her, but you assume she's unhappy on your behalf?"

"Don't think me so vain as to simply assume such a thing." Nadir always used the same, old tricks... "I've spoken to her."

Nadir was actually surprised, and for a minute, was not certain whether Erik was telling the truth or not. "You have? She has come here? What did she say to you?"

"Yes. She was here. Friday. And why should I tell you what she said to me?"

"Maybe you shouldn't." Nadir shrugged as if to say _that_ was not what he was concerned about although he was concerned about _something._ "All I know is you have always resisted suicide until this point. Was it something she said to you?"

Erik answered with frostbitten words. "Do not dare blame her for my decisions."

"I'm not," Nadir alleged quickly. "I am quite certain her original intentions were not to convince you of suicide." Though Christine Daaé did have a reputation for getting in over her head without meaning to, Nadir knew well enough that such a notion would never have even entered the girl's universe of thought.

He went on, trying to be a little more careful in what he said to Erik now, "I'm only suggesting that you re-think what you did. She knows about it, you know. You know her far better than I, but it seems to me your death would only bring her more unnecessary pain. Unless, of course, she has nothing to do with this at all and my thoughts are incorrect?"

"You...You think too much." She knew about it!...The words struck Erik harder than he expected, but he dared not betray the emotion. "I've always done so well at bringing her unnecessary pain, it seems, no matter what I do or where I exist. Even if my death should cause more, at least it would be the last of it."

Nadir looked directly at him. "Would it? I'm not so sure."

Erik met Nadir's eyes with a glare. "I don't plan to haunt her from beyond the grave."

Nadir shook his head, a bit frustrated. "That wasn't what I was suggesting."

Erik glanced down at his hand that lay on the top of the small, metal ledge. Erik answered to no one. So why was it that he now felt the need to defend his objectives...Was it because he cared?

"There was a time," he began, resentfully, "when all I wanted was her...To possess her completely; heart, soul, and voice...My motivation and intentions were purely self-interested. But, unlike the structure of man, love has more than one face, Nadir, and I want her to be happy. I want her to be able to _live_. And she cannot even do that now. I allowed myself to be caught. I let them put me in this place and process me with their system, and now my ordeal is filling her life with black marks."

"But that is why she can't live, Erik." What could Nadir do to make him _see_? "Whatever happened that night changed something in her. I saw it with my own two eyes. You are a part of her. You wanted to be part of her soul, and you accomplished that. You can't undo it by killing yourself."

"Perhaps not." Erik did not appreciate Nadir's scolding. "But she's put her life on hold because of this. There is no way she can move on and be happy until it's over. Whether they keep her from doing so or whether she does it on her own... I can't put her through this. Not for me...Not after I let her go."

Nadir sighed a little. "Do what you will then, Erik. I can only advise you so far. I truly believe your thinking is off when it comes to this. I believe that she is upset only because you are in this place, against your will, apparently to her."

"Do you think I do anything without a reason? There is only one way out of this."

"Yes. Win the trial." Nadir knew that wasn't what Erik meant, but he thought Erik was seeing things a bit too black-and-white. When was death ever the only answer?

Erik laughed, finding Nadir's naiveté highly amusing. "As appealing as that sounds, my friend, no pun intended, even I must admit it is highly impossible. I have done a lot of things and am being charged with even more. Do you mean to imply that you think I could be found innocent of every single charge? Come now, daroga, you ought to know better than that."

Perhaps Nadir did know better than that...Or perhaps he had truly fallen under the spell of wishful thinking. He answered almost fondly, "If there is one thing I know about you for certain, Erik, it is that you can accomplish anything you set your mind to...One way or another."

Erik smirked at the unwarranted flattery. "Just how much control do you think I have here? Not much, eh? No, I tell you... There is only one way out."

There he went again! Nadir could not understand why Erik was refusing to acknowledge his advantages! "How much control? I happen to know that your voice is exceptionally manipulative...I'm not suggesting anything, of course. I am just all too aware just how much control you could have."

Erik absently spun the handcuffs around on the counter and watched the patterns they made while in motion. "Better they not know that," he said in a low, resigned voice. "They might try to make things more difficult for me." He looked back up again. "Despite what could be, I am fully aware of what cannot be. And being legally allowed out of this cage will not happen as long as I am alive."

Erik was now speaking in a rather enigmatic tone that confused Nadir. He knew well enough not to take everything Erik said at surface value, and was now not so sure anymore exactly what Erik meant.

"Legally, perhaps not..." Nadir conceded thoughtfully. "I've never known you as one to follow the rules, though, Erik." He broke off and laughed at his own words, realizing what he had just implied, "And to think! A former cop all but telling you to break the law! It's probably better not to listen to a word I'm saying to you. But...I do come to you as a friend and not a cop."

Erik looked at Nadir for a moment, amused. "You, daroga...Yes, the former Chief of Police suggesting I _escape_ from this place?" Erik laughed and switched the phone to his other hand. "I've gotten as far as the main wall, they don't know this of course, but it is impossible to get any further without drawing attention to myself. And I'm not invincible you know. I have no resources. All they would need would be a few well-armed men at close range. But they would not shoot to kill, daroga...No, I'm not that fortunate."

Nadir sighed; all good spirits were gone. So Erik had tried to escape. Nadir now wondered why he had even doubted it. Erik knew what he was capable of. But it was so unlike Erik to get himself into an inescapable situation! Nadir just didn't understand.

"Why did you allow yourself to be caught in the first place, Erik?"

He had barely finished the question before Erik figuratively exploded on the other side of the glass.

"That mob did not have legal justice on their minds! They were after vengeance and brutal retribution! I expected oblivion! What I would like to know is who bloody prevented it!" He pounded his fist against the counter in a way that would have caused just about anyone else immense pain.

Nadir was silent for a minute before he said, softly, in final realization, "So you wanted to die that night..."

"I would rather die in hell than live it." Erik had calmed somewhat with a tremble that could have been sorrow...But still spoke with a vehemently bitter tone, "There is no sense in living when life is over. And mine...My life left me that night." Any future words were cut off when Erik suddenly dropped the phone as his hand went to his throat. He was seized with a violent cough behind the mask...It was the same as had plagued him since he'd been treated in the medical facilities. The doctors had not cared to be kind.

Alarmed, Nadir jumped up. "Erik! Are you all right?"

Erik couldn't hear him of course. The phone itself swung a few inches above the floor by its wire off the hook. Erik didn't look up as he attempted to recover himself, but he spoke to Nadir through the glass. "Twice I've been prevented...But I am angry now. The first time, it was only Erik they forced to continue to live in suffering, but this time they've prolonged _her_ torment as well. I will not let them use me to harm her. I simply cannot allow for that, you know." Straightening, he looked to see where the phone had gone.

Nadir had forgotten completely that Erik could not hear him as he spoke, "What are you saying? Erik, I'll tell them right now to keep extra watch on you if you are telling me you will do it again!"

Erik pulled up the phone by its cord, but lay down it on the counter as he felt he was going to cough again. His hand clutched at his throat as he did, and left with not much other option, he moved to lift off his mask while only glancing vaguely in Nadir's direction, "You don't mind, do you?"

He only moved it enough to put his hand over his mouth to suppress the choking cough. He took in Nadir's alarmed expression more fully and then spoke again when he was able, "Oh, of course you do. Forgive me."

Nadir answered coldly even though Erik could still not hear him, "You know me better than that. Of course I don't mind."

After another discomforting moment, Erik had recovered completely enough to take up the phone again. However, every aspect of his manner betrayed just how momentarily weakened he had become by the attack. He renewed the conversation somewhere near where it had been paused. "You see, daroga, I've had a lot of time to think. It's really all I can do...And you don't know what it's like inside of this skull of mine...But there is no music here, you know. I know what needs to be done, and I know what I need to do it."

Nadir had seated himself again and retorted quickly, his voice stern, "And suicide is the only answer." He did not agree.

Erik half glared at Nadir through the glass. "Must you berate me for a moment of nobility?"

"It's hardly nobility!"

Nadir was beyond exasperated at Erik's cursedly narrow point of view, while Erik was frustrated with Nadir's one-sided standpoint.

"If it was dishonor," said Erik, "to attempt to sacrifice my soul to give her what I most want her to have, well then I was most joyous to be ignoble."

"You're blind, Erik!" Nadir wished he could simply grab his friend by the shoulders and force sense into him. "She doesn't want you to die! Why else would she have come visit you? Why else did she hesitate leaving you that night? I swear if that boy hadn't taken her hand and led her away, she'd be with you now!"

Erik's glare intensified. "Watch your mouth, daroga, before you say something that I'd be very glad to make you regret. There is a difference between what she thinks she wants and what she does need."

"You're saying she needs the boy then?" For once in his life, couldn't Erik at least try to speak straightforwardly?

"I am saying she needs—She deserves—A contented, normal life. One without darkness and without pain. One filled with pure and simple love. She needs to be able to thrive in a world of smiles and light. And when I saw that her being involved in my trial, _my_ ordeal, was preventing her from having what I most wish her, above all people, to possess, as I never can, do you think I could have sat by that day and know she was suffering through this? Know that she was being forced against her will to participate in this abominable process? And know that, because of my selfishly prolonged fate, she cried? Tears over my death would not last forever...But how could I walk away from her that day, knowing that the sooner it was over, the sooner she would be able to move on with _her_ life, and not wish to give _my_ life and my soul, if I have such a thing, to be able to grant her one last act of mercy she needed from me? She deserves from me..."

Nadir listened to Erik carefully, without interruption, and by the time Erik's words had died away, Nadir's anger had vanished. His responding words then were grim, but they were understanding, "You put her above all else, Erik. You put her above your music and your life. If she knew just how much you care for her..." Nadir let his words grow faint...Truth be told, he wasn't quite sure what Christine Daaé would do if she _did_ fully understand Erik's love. He began again; finally, "I understand why you did what you did. I still don't agree with it, but I understand. But she would be satisfied if you won the trial. Don't give her tears over your death; instead, give her a smile due to your freedom. And if that's the last of it, at the very least, you leave with a smile from her."

Erik sighed. Some storm clouds just did not have silver linings. "I will not win my freedom in this case. At least not until after many years of detention in the very best of possible outcomes."

"Nothing is impossible, Erik..." Nadir only sounded now half certain.

Erik shrugged his shoulders passively. "Look at the facts, Nadir. Better yet, look at the facts from a prosecuting angle. And then meet with my lovely lawyers, Nadir, who don't give a damn about my defense. Not that I blame them. You know..." Erik laughed to himself, recalling the events earlier, "They presumed to think me mad."

Nadir almost laughed outright as well. "Did you mean to make them think that?"

Erik was slightly offended, but remained amused nonetheless. "Certainly not! Though I suppose they had their reasons. They spoke with me yesterday and suggested a change of approach: That I plead insanity."

"Insanity! Truly? You're the sanest man I know...The most stubborn, by far...but sane."

Erik glanced down, as if in thought, and spoke distantly, "It really is a fine line..."

There was a long pause then, and neither of them quite knew what to say...Then Erik looked up again and went on. "But I took care of that."

Took care of it? Nadir wasn't sure whether that might have been a good or a bad thing to hear Erik say...But it had been said...And so Nadir started to say something, himself, but before he could, his eye was caught by the guard who had reappeared on the other side. The man tapped his wrist, a warning that time was almost up, and then went on to speak with another officer. Nadir looked back to Erik. "It look as though you'll be kindly escorted back to your suite in hardly any time at all."

Erik laughed as if he were enjoying a private joke. "It does look that way, doesn't it?"

By this point, Nadir did not really think the warning was necessary, but offered it anyway, "Erik, I ask that you not attempt suicide again. When I released you in the East so many years ago, I never would have thought you of suicide...Not when you have this much to offer. Please grant my request."

Erik shook his head, dismissing the words as unneeded. Could Nadir's warnings have been any further from Erik's intentions? "No, there is only one way out of this." Erik glanced back at the preoccupied guard and then looked to his friend. "Nadir, what happened to my cat?"

Nadir was puzzled; he had not expected the question. "...I don't know, Erik."

Erik sighed, disappointed, but then caught sight of the guard approaching. He spoke into the phone quickly, in a very low and dark voice that filled Nadir with a strange sense of a completely different foreboding. "I am getting very tired of this. Goodbye, my friend."

Nadir sighed again. "I'll go look for that cat of yours. Goodbye, Erik."

He then slowly hung up the phone with reluctance, stood, and turned to go as Erik reached for the handcuffs and moved to put his phone back on its hook. Before he left, though, Nadir glanced back just in time to see Erik seized by another violent fit of coughing. Both phone and cuffs fell form Erik's hands. The guard saw the handcuffs drop to the ground at the same time Nadir had and, realizing they were not binding Erik's wrists as they should have been, the officer immediately drew his weapon and rushed toward the debilitated Erik.

Nadir desperately shouted a warning to his friend on the other side of the impenetrable glass, but it was useless and Erik could not hear him. However, as Nadir watched, Erik seemed to recover himself enough, just before the guard reached him, to hold out a hand in warning. Erik must have said something then, for the officer immediately stopped and stood still in front of him. After another moment, Erik had straightened and stared levelly at the guard. Nadir could not tell if Erik was speaking behind the mask to the man, but after another pause, the guard slowly lifted both of his hands. Erik nodded and Nadir did not understand what was happening until he saw Erik snap the handcuffs around the guard's wrists without touching the weapon. Nadir did not know whether to chuckle or be alarmed at such a rash action, but could do nothing other than continue to watch this most incredible pantomime. Erik stepped back from the booth while gesturing to the chair as if offering the man a seat. Without a sideways glance, the guard sat down exactly where Erik had been sitting. It was only once Nadir was able to see the vacant expression in the young man's eyes that he shook his head and began to laugh.

Erik had already begun to walk back towards his cell and was being pursued by another guard that had been at the end of the room, but Nadir did not see what happened after that. It didn't matter, though. Erik would do as he would do. Just as he always had.

In truth, Nadir had doubted his friend's sanity...It wasn't that he thought Erik mad—No, of course not—But what man wouldn't be at risk of losing his senses with all that had weighed on Erik's soul? Nadir understood now that, if it were to happen, it hadn't happened yet...But that was not enough to alleviate his fears for the future.

Analyzing their conversation in afterthought, Nadir couldn't help but feel that Erik had something hiding in his store of tricks. He was planning something...Working up to something...But what might it be? Not suicide again...No, Erik would never make the same mistake twice...Unless—But Nadir couldn't figure it out. He probably knew Erik better than Erik himself knew Erik, but try as he might as he thought, he could not deduce a single idea of what it might possibly be...What it was that Erik had in that mind of his...Or _did _he have anything in mind at all?

He knew he would lose sleep trying to think about this. But it was his nature, of course.

...But, perhaps Erik was right. Perhaps Nadir did think too much...


	10. Carlotta Vs Christine

Announcement: For those of you who are just reading this story for the first time, I think I should point out that between the last chapter you just read and this one, there was a TWO YEAR break in which I did not update!! To everyone who started reading it back when it began in 2001, I love you I love you I love you!! Thank you for welcoming back my prodigal story... THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! to everyone who has ever supported me with this story... and to all of you who have stuck by me with your encouragement and motivation to get pastthat writer's block!! THANK YOU to Cree! My original coauthor and inspiration who never never gave up! This story is for and because of her. Thanks to Krista and to MidasGirl! You two definitely helped me the most!! I am so honored to have TWO friends who cared SO much about this! And, of course, as always, thanks to The Grasshopper! Because her name is just so cool ::lol:: j/k ;) You rock! You all rock!!!

And most importantly, FOREVER thanks to EVERYONE for the reviews!! As long as it took me to get back to this phic, it would have NEVER happened at ALL without all of your encouragement :)

Now I won't keep you waiting any longer... I worked SO hard on this chapter!! (haha if you think about it... two years of planning and battling and trying over and over again!!) I hope it's enjoyable! _Please_ let me know what you think! Love and fmeek to all!!!

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**Two Days Before the Trial**

The prosecution's six star witnesses were assembled at a large, oval table in a conference room at the District Attorney's offices. The D.A. himself and his associates, however, were not present. Just as he had been about the wrap up the day, he had been called out of the room on some significant matter. That was several minutes ago, and since then, a tense silence had reigned over the six of them. They had come today, two days before the trial's opening date, to be reviewed and drilled on their testimonies. The process was tedious and had brought up too many uncomfortable memories for any of them to be able to feel at ease now. And as the minutes slowly ticked on, the tension in the room gradually congealed.

Carlotta Guidicelli, the Spanish Prima Donna with the Italian surname, was in bad temper. She looked at her watch for the fourth time in the past thirty seconds, and then it was her unforgettable voice that diffused the silence, "I don't have time for this. I have a rehearsal to be at in hardly any time at all. Just give him the death sentence and let's be done with it."

The turmoil on Christine Daaé's face was quite blatant, but she held her tongue. For the past weeks, her fiancé had tried to keep her mind distracted from legal issues, and Christine played along...But in truth, the poor girl thought about Erik all the time.

Firmin Richard glanced over at Carlotta, "Please be patient, Signora," he used the diva's preferred title. "Don't worry yourself about the rehearsal..." Considering that it was he who was her employer.

She fanned herself rapidly with a device constructed of flaming blue peacock feathers. "The cast simply can't progress without me."

He answered between clenched teeth, "I'm sure they'll be just fine."

Richard's associate Armand Moncharmin jumped into the conversation in attempt to please the diva, as he often did, "Of course. We'll see to it that this is quick and painless."

Meanwhile, Christine crossed her arms and looked away from everyone. Raoul Chagny put a comforting hand on her arm, but he remained silent.

The entire room too returned to silence except for a random sniffle that came from the end of the table where the artiste known simply as Sorelli sat. The Prima Ballerina was not quite yet recovered from the dramatic emotional breakdown she'd had during her review as soon as the subject of Philippe Chagny had come about. It happened every time without fail, and the prosecutor was quite pleasantly expectant of her performance when she would take the stand.

But the peace did not last long before Carlotta's shrill voice rose once again, "What are they doing! What on earth is taking so long?"

Raoul glanced over at her reluctantly. "Do calm down, Carlotta. We're all working together here."

"We are not _doing_ anything! We are sitting here, wasting time!"

Raoul had never been able to handle divas very well. Especially this one. "I'm sure he's doing something important. Just be _quiet _please! Everyone here wants this to happen as much as you do."

Carlotta felt there was no need to dignify such indignation with any response other than a vivid flick of her fan.

Richard was quite adept now at tuning out the diva's whining. He leaned over to Moncharmin, deciding to at least get back to business, "Have we drawn up the contracts yet for the chorus girls we hired to replace all those that quit?"

Moncharmin loosened his tie a bit. "Not yet. We're in the process."

Richard drummed his fingers irritatedly on the tabletop and grumbled, "This whole mess is putting us behind. Damn it all. Your season is already opening five weeks later than usual."

"It isn't my fault..." Frustrated by the conversation, Moncharmin reverted the topic, "I agree with la Carlotta. These lawyers should get their asses in here."

Raoul gave him a look for the sake of the ladies present, "Mr. Moncharmin, please..."

The manager suppressed a groan. "I'm sorry. But we are only getting more behind. I run a business, you know. And that insane cretin did more than throw off our schedule; he made almost half our employees break their contracts."

Christine tugged softly at Raoul's sleeve, pulling his attention away, "Raoul, I really don't want to be here right now...All they're going to do is insult Erik and I don't want to hear it..."

Carlotta interjected with a chuckle. "If something's the truth, it's not an insult."

Christine did not meet her eyes. "He's not insane..."

Moncharmin glanced across the table to Christine. "He tried to kill himself, didn't he? That alone makes him crazy in my book."

Christine shook her head. "No..." But she had nothing else to add.

Richard backed up his partner. "And even if it wasn't because of insanity, why would he have done it? It's simple; he's guilty, and he knows he's going to get it either way."

Christine couldn't listen to this, and she tugged harder at Raoul's sleeve.

He spoke up with lack of enthusiasm to the others, "Do you mind? Nobody wants to talk about this."

"I do," Carlotta smirked. "Why don't we ask her why he did it? She was with him that day."

Raoul did not appreciate being reminded.

Carlotta continued, "Perhaps she gave him a good reason to kill himself."

Richard looked at Christine curiously, "What did you say to him?"

Raoul answered for her, "That is none of your business."

Moncharmin was just as inquisitive, "Did you tell him to do it?"

Christine gasped, "No!"

"He was just so generous enough to just do it for you?"

Raoul smacked his hand against the table. "Shut _up_, all of you! It had absolutely nothing to do with her! Only an idiot would try to kill himself for such an inane reason, and you're all idiotic for even implying that. Leave her out of this."

Christine turned in her seat and looked at Raoul. Part of her was most thankful for his support...But another part of her was stunned by such a vehement dismissal of the idea that killing yourself for someone was "idiotic."

The room had returned to a hush, but Christine's ears were filled with the pounding of her throbbing heart. It had been her fear from the start that something she had said or done during her visit had been what caused Erik to attempt suicide...But with Raoul's loving encouragement, she'd forced herself to not fall into self-blame. She had wanted to talk to Erik about it...But they wouldn't let her see him...And she'd wanted to go back again later...But why hadn't she? Why hadn't she ever visited Erik since that day? There had been too much happening...Raoul had been trying too hard to distract her...She had never had the chance...

She didn't know any more than anyone else why Erik would want to commit suicide...But could it be possible that his reason _was_ because of her? Or was it possible that it was her _fault_? She suddenly could not refuse the idea. Why had she never gone back to see him again!

Finally, it was Christine who broke the quiet, whispering very softly, "Raoul, I want to go home..."

Raoul sighed and answered without looking at her, "We'll go as soon as they get back..."

On the other side of the table, one manager commented to the other, "A pity the suicide attempt wasn't more successful."

"It doesn't matter. They are going to convict him. And at least this way, we'll know he didn't take the easy way out. They're going to make sure he gets all that's coming to him."

The ballerina Sorelli's voice suddenly burst out in a sob, "It doesn't matter what they do! Nothing will bring Philippe back! Where have all your priorities gone? Have none of you any respect for the dead?"

Raoul felt his stomach turn.

Christine saw his grimace and gently laid a hand on his arm.

Moncharmin sighed again and looked at his watch.

"Mein Gott! Aren't you done whimpering about it? Philippe isn't the only one who is dead!" Carlotta cannonballed back into the discussion.

Sorelli huffed in outrage, but before she could retaliate, Richard's voice cut through:

"Listen now, ladies, please! Every life is important." Although he especially meant those lives that had brought him income. "And that's why we're here. Enough of this squabbling! We are people of culture. And as Mr. Chagny said, we have to _work together_ for justice. We have all of us been wronged."

Sorelli folded her lithe arms across her munificent breast and gave herself a little hug. She forced back another sniffle and spoke, a bit more contained, "I don't see why we have to work at all. God and the Devil can see what a lunatic monster he is. They'd convict him even if none of us showed up."

Christine's clasp on Raoul's arm tightened as Carlotta readily agreed to Sorelli's comment, and she begged him once more, "Raoul, please..."

Raoul's handsome brow furrowed in a difficult attempt to maintain manly composure. His voice was still soft, but his tone was quite irritated, "As soon as they get back, ok?..."

Christine was surprised by the way he spoke to her, and after studying his expression for a moment, she let go of his arm, sat back in her chair, and turned her eyes away from him, not answering.

Sorelli practically leaned across Raoul to get a look at Christine. "What's the matter with you? I suppose it doesn't bother you at all that the man who was supposed to be your future brother in law was brutally murdered?"

Christine's response was quiet and careful, "Of course it bothers me, but you've heard all we have...There was no evidence that it was Erik who killed him."

The ballerina threw up her hands, practically striking Raoul in the nose. "No evidence!" she shrieked. "What more evidence do you need? They found Philippe by the lake! _By_ the lake! And he was drowned! How could a drowned man drag himself _out _of the lake? Somebody _murdered _him! And who else could it have been!"

Raoul crossed his arms against his chest and leaned back away from Sorelli's crossfire. Every word was making him more uncomfortable.

Christine could think of no new argument, "Perhaps he made his way down with good intensions, and the boat was on the other side. He could have tried to swim and something went wrong...He...drowned...and Erik pulled his body to the side to keep it from being gone in the waters..." She knew that all this had been ventured before and so she did not wait for a response. She glanced at poor Raoul briefly before continuing, "In respect for the deceased and his brother, I won't comment further."

Raoul kept his eyes turned away from all of them. Even Christine. The way she had said that was so blunt...

Sorelli was far from finished. She sniffed yet again, "You've always been on his side! You...You are the devil's advocate!"

Carlotta's fan stuck the edge of the table, and she laughed at the little soap opera playing out before her. "I could have told you that from day one!"

Sorelli wanted to be taken seriously. "We all knew it...Why is she here? She will jinx us!"

Carlotta touched her throat gingerly in memory. "Jinx indeed!"

Richard's head snapped up from the conversation he had resumed with Moncharmin. "Ladies, please!"

An uproar of shrill voices was abruptly cut short by the grating sound of Raoul's chair as he suddenly pushed it back and stood up. He spoke sternly, in a very low voice, "Excuse me." And then he just walked out of the room and let the door slam behind him.

Christine straightened where she was sitting, just as surprised as the rest of the group. A long silence. Everyone's eyes roamed back and forth from one to the next. Then after a moment, Christine too stood, and she hurried out of the room after Raoul.

He had gone only a short way down the hall, and was now near a large wooden bench, pacing back and forth quickly with his arms tightly folded.

She went to him and gently laid her hands on the backs of his shoulders. "Raoul?" She was rather bewildered...She was certain she had never seen Raoul quite like this before. She had seen him angry and proud, and even heartbroken, but never had there been such a rigid despair all about him.

He remained frozen for a second, but then he sighed very softly, and his shoulders slumped as if in defeat. He spoke as if he were answering a completely different question, "Yeah..."

"Oh, Raoul...I'm sorry for what they were saying in there..." She came around so that she could see his face and made certain her touch did not break contact.

He lifted her hands and removed them from his shoulders, but he did not let them go. "Don't be...They have nothing to do with you. Or us..."

She squeezed his hands tightly, and searched his eyes. He looked so incredibly sad! "Raoul...If they say something that hurts you even in the slightest way...you're _not_ by yourself. There is only us, Raoul."

He put his arms around her then and held her close, nuzzling into her hair. He said then as he said it all the time, "You're the only one I need..." But then he added as though he had just fully realized the idea for the first time, "You're all I have left..."

Christine returned his embrace affectionately, and she thought only of him. She did not think of Erik, nor of any of those people in the other room. She only thought of how desperately she wanted to take Raoul's pain completely away. "I'll try so hard to be all you need Raoul...I love you so much. I always have...ever since that day on the beach..."

He was not quite certain how to take her outpouring of feeling...And far from it suppressing his own emotions, he felt them rising now to block his throat. He pulled back from her, but it was only so that he could touch her hair as he looked at her face. "He never understood our love..."

For a moment, Christine was not sure who he meant... "Your brother...?"

Raoul's sorrowful thoughts were in the distant past. "He was my brother...And my father...He raised me..."

Christine brushed his cheek with her fingertips. "You miss him so much..."

He stepped away from her and clenched his fists as if he were about to have some sort of outburst. But then he managed to contain himself and only sighed under his breath with piteous softness, "Why..."

It broke Christine's heart to see her simple, pure love so distraught with complexities of emotion! She closed the distance he had created between them. She could not let him battle this misery alone! But that single 'Why' had brought Erik once again to the forefront of her mind. Erik...He was the reason why, wasn't he?...The answer to why Raoul suffered so much. There was absolutely nothing she could say; instead, she threw her arms around Raoul and held him tightly.

He reciprocated just as tightly. "You're my light, Christine...If only he could have known you as I know you..." But Philippe had never wanted to know her once he'd realized their love affair was more than a casual fling. Raoul added, despondently, "I don't think he ever really understood what real love was..." And the bitterness he realized in his own tone only saddened him all the more.

Christine kept herself pressed against him, and said sympathetically, "I wish I could have gotten to know him better..." How could she help but feel the sudden flash of guilt that she was at fault for causing Philippe's death? "If I hadn't ever met Erik, if none of this had ever happened...he wouldn't have ever...ventured down there...and he would still be alive..."

Raoul's arms constricted around her rather forcefully for just a moment, and then he let her go and stepped back, erupting, "You didn't "meet" _him_! That bastard fraud kidnapped you! Every man in the building went down there after you! Philippe was the only one he murdered!"

The sudden outburst shocked Christine...but more shocking was the realization that she knew that what he said was completely true...For a moment, she was struck speechless. But then she managed, very quietly, "And almost you..."

She felt like she was just waking up from a reoccurring nightmare that forced her to relive that terrifying night all over again. Memories swam before her of Raoul gasping in the heat of the torture chamber...Begging for water...And then too much water! Erik had spared the lives of everyone in the Opera with Christine's choice, but the water was still rising, and Raoul was going to drown! Begging, sobbing, pleading, promising...to that unrelenting black shadow...Anything...Anything at all for Raoul's life!

Raoul had begun to pace back and forth again with quick, staggered steps. "And every one of them in there! They care more about _using_ Lippe as a way to punish the criminal than the fact that he's _dead_."

Christine went straight to him and gently took his shoulders. "Oh, Raoul...I'm so sorry...so sorry about the past weeks..."

On impulse, he jerked away and continued to pace. "Why? You didn't do anything."

She watched him carefully...But really, what _had_ she done?...Perhaps it was more a question of what she had not done. Her tone was very soft, "In a way, I've been just as inconsiderate as every one of them..."

Raoul stopped pacing and looked at her. "What? No... What are you talking about? It's..." He shook his head, his blonde hair tousling with his aggravation and pain. "How could you even group yourself with them?"

She reached to him again and took his hands this time. She kept her eyes steady on his...She forced herself to push all excuses aside...It took her a some time to gather her thoughts, and it was a long moment before she could speak:

"There are several groupings here, I'm afraid...Perhaps I should join them in one." Words were difficult to find, but she forced herself to continue. This was the truth, and she could not let herself avoid it any longer...For Raoul's sake. She could not find the way to say exactly what she meant, but she hoped she could make him understand:

"Everything leads to Erik being the one to...cause Philippe's passing. But because I...because I felt sorry for Erik...because I cared about him...I tried to pretend that the facts weren't there...but everything...It all points to him." She truly did not want to continue, but she forced herself to say it, "I guess...I was foolish...to want to support him because everyone else hates him...but that does not change the fact that...even regardless of every other law he broke...He hurt _you_. And you are the most important person in my life, Raoul...I can't pretend anymore that it isn't true or that it doesn't matter...Erik is a murderer, and not the victim."

Raoul was so absolutely and utterly shocked by this complete turnaround that he was not sure if he could even believe her. She was watching him and waiting with eyes full of candor and love for some kind of reaction, but he could only ask with uncertainty, "Do you mean that...?"

At first, she did not even hesitate. "I hate to see you like this...and you wouldn't be if Erik hadn't..." But then she was silent again for several moments, and she looked as if she might begin to cry. But before Raoul could respond, she added, "I mean this." And she actually did...And she found the understanding somehow terribly saddening.

He let her hands go and instead took her by the arms. He stared into her eyes and his look kept her tears from forming. His grip on her arms was just as firm as his words, "You wouldn't be either... Nobody would. If it weren't for him, everything for us could be so...normal."

A distant instinct begged Christine to defend Erik, and she almost started to...but then, for some reason, she just didn't, and instead said, "I'm so sorry that I have ever been against you in this...We are going to be married, Raoul. We're on the same team...We always will be."

Her declaration assured him in one way, but it also brought more uncertainties to Raoul's insecurity. "Have we always been, Christine...?"

Christine bit her lip. She was really quite unsure of the true answer. "I don't think we have been...not on every issue at hand." She wanted to be entirely honest.

Raoul somehow was not surprised. "Why not? Why is it different now?"

"I think it was because I was...Well, I mean that I guess it was that I could not see him for what he really was...is...It still feels almost impossible to let go of the Angel of Music...but I _must_ because none of it is real..."

Raoul was not sure how he was supposed believe that. "But you knew it wasn't real a long time ago."

Christine wanted so badly to for him to believe her! "I know...but the impression of it all...The idea of him. I didn't want to let it go..." He voice grew softer. "I still don't..." She lifted her eyes to again meet his. "But I need to."

"Yes...But..." He was almost a little suspicious. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

She reached up to his face, cupping her hand against his cheek. "Because of the way you just had to leave that room. Because I don't want you to hurt anymore...I promise to you that I will do whatever I can to make things right for you...and right for what is right. Because what he did was wrong...Worse than wrong, it was devastating...And I need to serve the cause of justice as much as he does...As much as we all do. And that means that I need to do what it takes to ensure justice for you, Raoul...Honest, equal, American justice...I swear it to you. It's...It's the right thing to do... and...How could I do any less? After all that you have been through...for me. And the faster we can put this behind us, the faster we can move on...and you'll be happy."

Raoul slid his own hand over hers and studied her face. He vaguely wondered why his breakdown in front of everyone else was enough to make her change her mind when Erik practically killing him had not been. But he cast out those thoughts and focused only on the open love in her eyes. "You'll be happy too"

Christine nodded in agreement, but she said no more.

Raoul was also silent for a few moments as pleasanter plans began to formulate in his mind. When he finally spoke, Christine was taken aback by the words, "Christine, I want us to get married the very day after all of this is over."

Christine smiled just a little. "The very day?" It took her a moment, but then she added, "I can't wait."

Raoul returned her smile. "Yes. After the trial's wrapped up and once the jury goes into deliberation, we'll have everything prepared and tell everyone to be ready at a moment's notice." As he spoke, he was becoming quite excited by the idea. "Then the day they finish, it will all be over, and you and I will be free! By the next night, we'll be married."

Christine spoke quickly to keep herself from investing any thought into the implication of what he'd just said. "Who would have thought...that when we were children and we met...that you and I would end up married." She suddenly felt the desire to hug him, and she did so quite tightly. "I love you, Raoul"

He returned the embrace. "What, you didn't know back then?" There were no more doubts in his mind.

Christine laughed. "Did you?"

He kept his arms about her. "The moment I first saw you."

Christine was touched and wished she could see his eyes, but she did not want to pull away. "Really? You're not just saying that?"

Raoul kissed her cheek gently. "No...Not really...The moment I _first_ saw you, I thought 'Who the hell wears a scarf to the beach?'...But then after that moment, yes."

Christine looked up at him and then just started to laugh. "It was windy!" She knew it sounded ridiculous, and she could not stop laughing, "Besides...Perhaps I was just waiting for a dashing young boy to rescue it for me."

"Ahah! So it _was_ a trap!"

Christine giggled again. Just seeing Raoul happy now made her happy. "Well...Either way, I am glad I wore it that day. I would have never met you otherwise."

Raoul was quite resolute. "No. We would have met somehow. One way or another. This is fate, Christine. We're meant to be together."

"We are..." Christine's smile now beamed up at Raoul, but her mind had actually started to dwell on the dread of the idea of reentering the conference room.

Raoul leaned down and planted tender kisses against her ear, whispering, "I wish we could get out of here...Or maybe just find a nice, dark closet."

Christine playfully pushed him away as she laughed again and lifted an eyebrow to look up into his wily, blue eyes. "A dark closet, hm?" She teased, "Save it for the wedding night."

Raoul frowned and Christine was not quite sure how serious it was meant to be. "That is happening ASAP. The day after they announce the verdict, just you watch."

She returned his frown with a smile, but a part of her mind was wondering what Raoul would do if he didn't like the verdict...Her thoughts were abruptly cut off as the door to the room suddenly opened and every person that had inhabited it emerged. The District Attorney, Stephen Harris, was the only one who remained at the door as the others all made their way down to hall, too immersed in their own conversations to acknowledge the startled couple.

Harris nodded to Raoul, "Mr. Chagny, I just need to speak with you for a few minutes about some of the details regarding your brother's murder."

Christine was immediately distraught to see the suffering so quickly recapture Raoul's features. She squeezed his hand as he left her side to return to the room, "I'll wait for you right here..."

He only nodded his head a little in response; his throat had tightened again, and he kept his eyes turned away until the door closed behind him. Christine silently prayed that the interview would not last long for his sake...

The gilded voice of la Carlotta made Christine jump as it suddenly rang out from behind her:

"That twit cries more than my shih tzu."

Christine turned around to face her. Carlotta was fanning herself again with that peacock atrocity. Christine had no qualms about giving her a look of undisguised revulsion. "His brother was murdered. At least he is able to care about a loved one dying, unlike some." She made her point clearly to the diva.

Carlotta only laughed out loud with the resonance of a warbling bird. "Oh, I care, little one. But do I sit around whimpering about it like a dog? No. I take my place in the action! My performance on the stand will be a triumphant success!"

Christine bit the insides of her cheeks and answered with disgust, "Another performance...This is a wonderful publicity stunt for you, isn't it? Even if you cared nothing about the life of Philippe Chagny...The man you worked with side by side every day for the past three years dies, and you deliver the best performance of your life. Haven't you ever thought about Ubaldo instead of yourself for one single moment...?"

Carlotta had to scoff. "He would never want anything less! Do you think he would want his great name to fade out quietly? Or to be proclaimed in the lights for all to see!"

Christine gave her honest opinion, "I think he'd look past a fake career if you were dead and he was alive. Wouldn't you want to be mourned as you should?"

"_Fake_!" Carlotta shrieked. It was the only word she'd heard. "If anyone's career is fake, it is yours, you little witch! You were nothing without that madman pulling the stings and harassing us all!"

Christine pretended she had not heard the second part. "Yes, fake! No one will remember you in ten years! Or me! The difference is that I couldn't care less because there's more to life than performing..." She looked back at the door to the conference room and felt a distinct longing for Raoul's company.

Carlotta smacked her fan against the bench and declared, "The world will remember la Carlotta forever!"

Christine forced herself to look back at her. She sighed. In a way, she almost felt sorry for her. "We'll see, I suppose..." But perhaps there was more to the feeling...

Carlotta laughed again, and her tone reverted to the familiar condescending arrogance. "I can just see what more there is to your life than performing. Your pathetic...blonde...waif grandchildren will be listening to my CDs while you wash your husband's dishes."

Christine looked away and tried not to pay attention. "Is that truly all you see?" She kept her eyes trained on the door, willing it to open again.

Carlotta shook her starched, red curls and clucked her tongue. "I understand you think his money will buy you all the happiness in the world, but if you think there is anything better to life than performing, then you were never a performer to begin with." She chuckled to herself and picked at a loose feather on her fan. "Of course the critics who spoke the truth about your vile acting knew that even before I did."

Christine nodded, trying to focus on the larger issue. "Perhaps I wasn't..." She then continued more firmly, "But I am not marrying him for money, Carlotta."

Carlotta flicked the feather in Christine's direction. "Sure, dearie."

"You're so hateful, Carlotta...Honestly, I've never met anyone else in the world like you. You're completely unique in that category." Why wouldn't the door open?

Carlotta tilted her head back and laughed yet again. She seemed to be decidedly entertained by the girl's defiance. "But that is why we're all here, dearie. This whole affair is a matter of hate."

Christine let her eyes return to her antagonist's face when she said that. "What do you mean?"

Carlotta folded her fan and took a step towards Christine, speaking in a voice an octave too low, "What else could have gathered the likes of us all together for the same cause."

Christine inched toward the door. "...Perhaps we're not all here for...hateful reasons..."

"Oh? And why are you here, then? For fun?" She tapped the tip of the fan against the side of her chin.

Christine folded her arms and turned away. "No..."

Why was she here? Christine remembered something then out of the blue...Something that had somehow slipped her mind...She was supposed to make a phone call...Weeks ago...More? Call Erik's lawyers and tell them she had to cancel her appointment...She couldn't meet to sign the papers that would make her a witness for Erik's defense. Why hadn't she called? If she had only called them, perhaps they would have talked her into signing...and then the D.A. could have never subpoenaed her...And she would not be here now having this upsetting conversation with this vile woman. And Raoul would be here alone...Yes...Raoul! It was for him that she hadn't called. This was her duty. Her duty as an honest citizen and her duty to love.

"I'm here to...support my fiancé in this situation...and to be done with it as quickly as possible." Wasn't there a duty to love...?

Carlotta did not believe one word. She rolled her eyes and Christine could not quite tell if there was sarcasm when Carlotta spoke, "What a fine little wife you'll make."

Christine's voice was barely audible, "Better than some..." But why was she not sure? Could it be that she _was_ here for hate? No! The answer had to be no! How could she ever hate Erik...

Carlotta continued, her mockery now clear, "Doing your little wifely duty to make sure the devil who inconvenienced all our lives gets his just desserts."

Christine shot Carlotta a look, but it faded quickly. "...Don't call him that...please." Christine's resolve, which had been so strong when Raoul's arms were around her, was fading. She forced the words in effort to convince herself as much as Carlotta, "He did...What he did was against the law...and he...He does need to be penalized for it. It's the law...and...That's why I'm here. It's my responsibility. It's the right thing to do...It has nothing to do with hate."

"You're kidding yourself," Carlotta snapped, frustrated by the girl's persistence. "If it's easier for you to coldly execute someone, even a madman like him, without any emotion, let yourself believe that. But at least the rest of us are honest when we admit that he deserves to be killed because we _hate him_ for what he _did_ _to us_."

Christine didn't know why she was letting this get to her... "But there's no way you could possibly understand..." She could not continue. Deserves to be killed? Was that what Erik deserved? Christine suddenly realized that when she had decided that justice needed to be served, there truly was a possibility that Erik could be executed! There was more than a possibility! She had agreed to be honest, but her honesty was what would sentence him...It would damn him! But what could she do? It was the right thing to do! Alongside everyone else, she would be laying out the cold facts of Erik's guilt that could just possibly send him to his execution! And she would never see him again...She would never again hear his voice. It finally hit her. Erik would be dead. And _that _was justice!

Christine was sick. Christine was weak. How could she serve justice when it felt so wrong...And how could she not? A part of her had always known...or perhaps assumed that she would always see him again sometime... Even after all that had happened...But Carlotta had been saying it all along—They all had! Erik was going to be sentenced to death! Why! How! ...How...? Raoul...Her poor, dear sweetheart, who had suffered so much by Erik's hand... She had promised Raoul...He was her fiancé...

She finally spoke again very softly, "You're right..." She was going to cry.

Although Carlotta's tone was idle, she was trying to hurt Christine. How she wanted to see tears flow from this girl who had had the world handed to her on a silver platter. "If anything, you might as well hate him for giving you that illusion of that fake career of yours. After all, if you think you'll ever outshine me again, you're going to be sadly disappointed. Now that there's no one blackmailing us on your behalf, you're pretty much through, sweetie. I doubt the management will even renew your contract at the end of the year." She then added maliciously, as if she was privy to some unknown information, "In fact, I'm quite sure that they won't."

Christine stared at the sadistic diva through a river of anguish. Her blue eyes, shredded with agony, moved just slightly back and forth...as if even they did not know which way to run. How she strove to shut out the throbbing reverberations of the words, but more commanding they grew! What Carlotta said really was true...Only...It was not terrible!

_Epiphany! _

And the most excruciating awareness! Even had Christine suddenly realized she hated Erik, she could not have felt more unbearably ill. Every word was true! And it was the most wonderful thing in the world! Erik really _had_ made Christine everything that she was...And he was a part of her. A vast part of her. And the fact that she had refused to accept the truth...She could not even comprehend! Erik had saved her from destitution. He had changed the course of her life. He had shaped her world. More than the world—He had delivered her Heaven and Hell, and all within the realm of devotion to her! Without him, she knew she would have remained just any other girl, eventually engaged to a man, ensured of becoming a typical housewife with nothing ever again to be out of the ordinary...If even that...Without Erik, would she and Raoul have even ever been reunited? She had insisted to Carlotta that there was more to life than their career... But if Erik had never been her teacher, she would have had none of that!

Before Erik, she had been ready to forsake singing, forsake her father's memory, and even God himself! Unbearable despair! She had surrendered. And then the miracle...His voice had come to her...That voice that had coiled from the very recesses of her own mind...The voice of an Angel.

An angel of pure devotion and generosity...And he had given her everything. Even Raoul. She loved Raoul...And had she not just assured Carlotta that love was all she needed to live a happy life? She knew she would be happy with him...but how could she ever be as happy as she could have been? If she lost Erik! If Erik were to be put to death! Even if she never saw him again, never heard him again, he _must_ still be a part of the world! The world that would have never begun if Erik had not given it to her! The slightest notion of _happiness _would never again even exist if Erik were gone...Gone forever...

"Oh..." She could not even speak...Yes, Christine had been wounded, but it was not in the way that Carlotta had intended.

Carlotta eyed Christine in an attempt to figure out what was going through the girl's head. Impossible. She would put what she wanted in Christine's head. "You hate him too, admit it... He swindled you over... He used you as a way to control us...And now that they caught him, you're left with nothing." She pressed her lips together for a moment. Why was that look in the girl's eyes? She kept on, "Of course, it's not as if you had anything before all this either. But you must hate him for making you think you could achieve more than you'd ever be worth." The laugh was almost forced this time.

No. It was Erik who had made Christine anything at all! He had given her a soul. Only he could have done that. Erik.

She tried to give Carlotta an answer, "I...I'm not...I mean..." Why could she not speak! What was she supposed to say? She was suddenly struck by the miserable understanding that she could never let Raoul discover such feelings. And if she betrayed herself to Carlotta, how the witch would love to taunt her already tormented fiancé with citations of favor for Erik...

There was nothing Christine could say. There was nothing she could do. The glowing light of salvation surrounded her, but she could not touch it...She could not...There was nothing she could do. She had no choice—And Erik would be executed.

Finally, Christine spoke again, very softly, and filled with desolation, "You are a very cruel woman, Carlotta."

Carlotta could not keep a little frown from creasing her red eyebrows. "I'm on your side here. Just because the truth isn't pretty doesn't mean that it's not the truth."

Tears on Christine's cheeks. Hadn't that been Carlotta's goal? But these tears weren't right...Not right at all...And Carlotta was just as relieved as Christine when the door suddenly opened again and Raoul emerged from the conference room.

He was surprised to see the two of them there together...But he was much more concerned by the distraught look on Christine's face and the way her folded arms were so forcefully entwined. He could be quite certain that Carlotta had been the one to cause Christine's state, and he gave the diva an incensed look as he went to Christine and put an arm around her shoulders. He spoke to her softly, "We can go home now..."

Christine only gave a little nod of her head, and her own arm slid around Raoul's strong waist. She just wanted to get away. She only glanced back at Carlotta once. In a very bizarre way, did Christine almost feel...grateful to her...? Had it taken such blatant cruelty to force Christine to truly understand? She had relinquished her very soul... Forsaken Erik...And if Carlotta hadn't...

Raoul started to take her down the hall, and he only nodded a brief, yet polite goodbye to Carlotta.

She waved her fan back at both of them, and her voice was strangely cheerful. "See the two of you in court!"

Christine stuck close to Raoul's side as they walked, and she wiped at her own tears a little too forcefully.

Raoul was seriously concerned. Once they were out of earshot, he asked, "What did she say to you this time?"

Christine kept her hand over her eyes. "Its nothing...nothing out of the ordinary, I guess...I shouldn't allow her to get to me like this..." It wasn't necessarily untrue...

Raoul gave her a little squeeze. He began to repeat his promises from before, trying to cheer her up, "It will be all over soon... The day after this is finished, we're getting married..." And then he added with a mixture of vehemence and humor, "And she's not invited to the wedding."

Christine let her hand fall. She looked up at him, and could only study his handsome features for a moment... If it weren't for Erik... She tried to smile. 't you just picture her objecting..."

Raoul laughed and opened the last door for her. "She'd do it just to be a bitch."

She wanted to laugh...Raoul could not be more beyond wonderful and loving... "That would be awful..."

But would love ever make her happy... In a world without Erik... There was nothing she could do. But would he be executed? Perhaps...perhaps there was another way...Perhaps there was something she could do...There must be a way to avoid death! A lesser sentence...It was possible...There had already been so much death...Even she herself felt dead.

Raoul's laugh cut through her thoughts. "Good God..." he gasped. "And she'd probably want to sing."

Christine needed to be alone for these thoughts...She tried to push them away for the moment and focus on Raoul. She shook her head. "I don't even want to think about that...It's supposed to be the happiest day of our lives. Just thinking about her at all makes me nauseous."

They had reached the car where it was parked, and Raoul unlocked the passenger door and held it as she climbed inside. "That's about all she's good for."

Christine's answer was soft as Raoul went around to the other side. "...You would think." That she had achieved such insight from Carlotta's provocation amazed Christine. The irony of the situation struck her as nothing less than miraculous. The methods of the Universe were beyond her comprehension...And she could not help but wonder at the mysterious ways of Fate...Of God?

Raoul did not understand. "What do you mean?"

Christine lied, "Nothing...I just...hope there's more to her than it appears...That's all."

If Christine could not understand herself, then Raoul would never understand! There had to be another way...She could not lose Erik. Her world could not lose him. Her world had never existed before him and it would crumble with his execution! How could she contribute to that?

She was flooded with a hundred times the sick terror that had overwhelmed her that day, weeks ago, when she had been told of Erik's attempted suicide...And he had done it because of her! And if she were to donate to his execution now...She had kept herself from dealing with this issue for so long, and now it was too late! It was impossible! She 't cope...She was sick. She was weak. And there was nothing she could do.


	11. Varlese Vs Erik

Hi all! Iiiiit's Erik time! This is the very first full chapter of this story that I actually wrote all by myself off the top of my head! No RP, no nothing… haha ;) I'm sure that seems ridiculous to all of you who write everything off the top of your head…But for me, it's a breakthrough!

Enjoy!! Love you all!! And thanks SO much to all those who reviewed! You guys rock!

* * *

**Two Hours Before the Trial**

Clara Varlese's hands were full. In one arm, she cradled a large, brown paper bag, and the other was attempting to dial a cell phone without letting her briefcase fall to the ground. She had two close calls as she tried to add a file box to the pile before she gave up. She groaned and kicked the door shut. She'd have to come back to her car for the box later.

Besides, the call had gone through and phone was ringing now. She started toward the doors of the courthouse, impatient for Corbin's secretary to pick up. Answering machine. Crap. She had already tried his mobile, and no answer there. Where the hell was he? He had better be already inside, or he was in for it. She'd send him back for the files. Make him do a little of the heavy lifting.

She was exhausted. She hoped one of them had at least gotten some sleep last night. It's not like she was running late; they didn't have to be in court until noon, but how could she help feeling a wee bit unprepared for today? It had happened so fast! Usually it took months or even more than a year for a homicide case to get a trial. Even celebrities had to wait for so long! But a few months had not even passed and already it was Day 1, and the press had labeled it the 'Trial of the Summer.' Talk about your sixth amendment! Of course, she knew the speed had absolutely nothing to do with her client's rights. It was all about politics. The witnesses were the celebrities, and they had agendas to keep. How many of the accused had been shirked of their six amendment right so that these barons of fame and wealth might not be inconvenienced? Finish it fast, they had told the D.A., and we will tell you everything you want to hear.

But what could more time have done for Varlese anyway? It was not as if her client was being especially cooperative. In fact, she was half certain he felt the same way as all the witnesses...Finish it fast

Actually, despite her exhaustion, Varlese was feeling at least a little bit confident. The defense may not have celebrity witnesses, but the forensics were on their side. All the scientific evidence and analysis had resulted most favorably for her case. And she knew that, despite whatever the truth of the murders might be, the point of the trial was to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Erik was guilty of homicide (etc., etc.). And it couldn't be done. She didn't know how it was possible, but the man had managed not to leave a single fingerprint, a single footstep, or a single speck of DNA anywhere near any of the bodies. And there were no eyewitnesses that saw him do it. Had he done it? Yes, Varlese was quite sure he had. But that didn't matter; her job was to show the jury that he could not be proved guilty and he was therefore innocent.

But, ah...The jury...How easily could they look at a man like Erik and listen to the testimony of the beloved superstar witnesses and not jump to conclusions regardless of evidence. Varlese remembered jury selection as if it had been yesterday. It practically had! She and Corbin had only been allowed to dismiss so many candidates...And how many were left over at the end with obvious biases...uncanny superstitions and emotionally twisted ideas. She would have objected to the whole lot if she'd been able! But where could she ever have found twelve people completely unbiased toward someone like Erik...The kind of man capable of sparking the deepest fears and darkest sensations in even the most contemporary of human beings with one flash of those strange, strange eyes of his. Any woman on the jury would either be utterly disgusted by him...or fall in love with the very first of his graceful movements...And neither was a good thing. Those that were seduced by his silent charm would only hate him for not even knowing they were alive, and those that were disgusted would smirk in the face of forensic science.

Varlese had no higher hopes for the men on the jury. Those that did not scoff at Erik for his apathy would see what effect he was having on the women, and they would undoubtedly be resentful. Jealousy was hate, and these men would want to punish Erik for the power of seduction of the senses that he never even consciously exerted. To reach a verdict, the jury would easily find itself unanimous...And even if there was one person impartial enough to look at the clear facts, why would he want to? Punishing Erik, guilty of these particular crimes or not, was not punishing an innocent man...For all around him, this one person would feel the sins that Erik commits every moment of his life just being who he is...Erik.

Should Corbin and Varlese win this case? Yes. Would they? She doubted it. But they would try. It was their job. And who knew? Perhaps (if he were actually willing to cooperate) she could create a new image for Erik. What she needed to do was convince him to suppress...himself. Couldn't he just pretend to be normal for a few hours each day while in the public eye? But try as she might, whether he was unwilling or incapable, she could not manage to get him to accomplish normalcy. So now she needed him to be less than normal...She needed to make him as invisible and unnoticeable. She knew there was no way she could get the jury to feel sympathy for him. She had thrown out that angle long ago. But if she could just manage to make him fade away...Keep those twelve "impartial" judges from literally noticing him as much as possible...Perhaps they would forget about prejudices. It was a manipulative mental strategy, but she knew it might work...It had worked in the past and it wasn't as if she had many other choices right now.

Strategies, strategies...She would have to take this trial day by day. Cross-examining the prosecution would take some time before the defense even presented their first witness anyway. First of so few. Corbin had given them the choice of coming today to watch, but Varlese doubted they would show up.

But would Corbin show up? That was what she wanted to know right now! She had already made her way through to the back halls of the courthouse, and there was still no sign of him. He'd better be there by the time she was done with Erik.

Because of security measures, Erik had been brought over from the prison at six o'clock that morning and had since been waiting in the cell in one of the back rooms that was even smaller than those at the prison. All that existed behind the bars (besides Erik) were two chairs and one table. But Erik was not using them. He stood very still with his back to the bars, and he did not notice when the guard left to go around the corner and unlock the outward door to let Varlese into the room. Erik also did not notice the sound of the guard unlocking the door of the bars behind him nor the sounds of Varlese's entrance into the cell until she unloaded all that she was carrying onto the table.

Erik turned just in time to see the guard lock the bars again and return to his post in the corner of the room.

Varlese straightened her suit first and the items on the table second. She then looked up at Erik and gave him the once-over.

"And how are we this morning?"

His black mask hid whatever expression that might have been on the face she still had never seen, and he answered simply, "Fine."

She gave him a half-smirk. "Not a morning person, eh?"

He distantly glanced at the windowless walls. "Is it morning...?"

Varlese rolled her eyes. "Turn around, let me get a look at you."

He did as she asked, and she paid absolutely no attention to the obvious cynicism in his participation.

He was dressed in the basic grey suit that had been such a pain for her to find in his size, but it seemed to fit him well. It was a very nice change from orange.

Varlese was impressed. "You look good...Don't glare at me! I mean it." She moved around him a little to make sure there were no wrinkles. "But that mask has to go."

Erik turned to face her again and folded his arms, daring her to even consider such a notion. "I don't think so."

Varlese shook her head and went back to the table. "No, I mean...Black isn't the best color on you."

"...I beg to differ."

Varlese stifled another smirk and picked up the brown bag, unfolding the top. "What I mean is...The mask that you are wearing is not the...most affable façade we could present to your judge and jury. Here, I brought you several options." She turned the paper grocery bag over and about eight or ten various masks spilled out onto the table.

She sorted through them, turning each one right side up. "You have to admit the one you've got is a little bit...sinister. And that's the last image we want to present. I'm thinking more neutral. Here, this one's my top choice." She picked up a very simple, molded mask that was made of somewhat flesh-colored plastic.

Erik barely even glanced at it. "No."

"Why not?"

"It won't fit."

"How do you know? You didn't even try it!" She held it out for him.

His arms remained crossed. "I know."

"How?"

Erik tried to think of an elucidation she might understand. "Haven't you ever...looked at a pair of shoes and simply known they were too small?"

Annoyed, Varlese glanced down at her shoes then at the mask in her hand. "Yeah, but that's shoes; this is a mask. How could you know...? It's not even..." She turned it over in her hand, trying to judge from the inside.

"I know." Erik repeated firmly. "It's too small."

"Well fine then." She tossed the mask back among the others. "Just pick one."

Erik turned his back on the table. He was being difficult...again! Varlese didn't have the time or tolerance for this.

"Listen. I don't care which one you pick. Any one of these is better than that Halloween nightmare you're wearing, which alone would make a jury want to have you swinging by the neck. But you have to pick right now, because I have other things to do before we have to be in that courtroom, and I am in absolutely no mood to sweet-talk you into being agreeable."

Erik slowly turned to look back at her over his shoulder. "Why do you always do that?"

She blinked. "Do what? What are you talking about?"

"'Have you swinging by the neck,'" he quoted. "Every occasion, the penalty changes with you. 'They'll gas you,' 'You'll get the chair,' now hanging...What's next? A firing squad? The guillotine? I was not aware this state was so fickle with its methods of execution."

Varlese flipped open her briefcase and shook her head. "It's not...Of course it's not...I just say it that way because 'They'll prick you with their little needle' doesn't have the same emphasis, you know?"

Erik approached the table, somehow seeming to now be interested in the conversation. "Needles can be quire lethal. The deadliest poisons flow from the smallest of stings."

She looked up at him, and as she spoke, waved a pen in the direction of the masks, hoping to save time. "Perhaps, but what's poison compared to electrifying you until your brains fry out your ears?"

Erik delicately spun a couple of the masks around to face him, and it seemed as if he were merely thinking aloud, "Some poisons can be quite excruciating. You could not even begin to dream of the slow, agonizing torture they can cause before the revolting death."

Varlese looked up from the contents of her briefcase. "What's with you and poison? You sound like you'd like the idea of dying by lethal injection."

Erik's voice was strangely hushed as he stared into the vacant eyes of the mask that happened to lie directly before him. "It seems fitting..."

Varlese was not a depressive person, but sometimes Erik just made her feel like shooting herself. She looked at him sadly for a long moment before she spoke. "You know you had a choice...We could have made a deal..."

Erik's eyes snapped up to hers. "And instead of risking execution, I would have been assured of dying in a prison cell after a long life of torturous solitude and immurement?"

She closed the briefcase and took a moment to rub her temple with her free hand. "And you really think that this way you have a chance?" She knew he knew just as well as she what devastating odds were against them.

However, Erik did not seem to take her comment seriously. "You're my lawyer...You're not supposed to be asking me questions like that."

Was that supposed to be a joke...? Varlese studied him as closely as possible. "I'm your lawyer...But I'm not an angel."

"Neither am I..."

She snapped the locks shut on the case. "That's for damn sure." Erik had gone far away again. Damn it all. She tapped the table to get his attention. "Now are you going to pick one of these or do I have to pick for you?"

His eyes drifted back to meet hers again. "...What?"

"The masks." She frowned. "I need you to be in reality right now, capisce?"

He was silent for a moment that unsettled Varlese, and then he moved around to her side of the table. He stared down at the woman from at least a foot above her head, and for some reason, he realized that he was feeling rather violent. "Forgive me." The words were built of black ice.

Varlese did not like the stiffness that had suddenly sprung to Erik's already always rigid frame. She had absolutely no tolerance for threats, and she was about to warn him to back off when he looked back to the table again and picked up one of the masks.

He turned it around in his hand and asked with tangible distaste, "Yellow?"

Varlese glanced from it to him then back to it again. "It matches your outfit."

Erik looked askance at her. "There is not a fleck of yellow on a single thing I'm wearing."

She shrugged. "But it_ is_ coordinated."

Erik gave her a dreadfully doubtful look.

She picked up the bag again. "What, you don't like it? I think it's cheerful."

His tone was flat. "You don't know me very well."

She shook her head and took the yellow mask from his hand, stuffing it back into the bag. "For a man with no proof of origin, birth certificate, or social security number, you sure have a strong sense of identity." She reached across the table to grab the one he had called too small and put it away as well. "Are you even an American citizen? Is Erik even your real name?"

Erik took his time examining a couple more of the masks before handing them to Varlese to put away. "I have no name, and I have no origin. I told you that."

She scowled at how easily he dismissed the masks she had taken hours to compile. "I thought you were just being supercilious."

Erik flipped a couple brown masks aside. "No. It's the truth."

Was she in the mood to piss him off? "So, that's it? You're no one? You're nothing?"

He looked down at her again. "A Phantom?"

Varlese was not sure if the question was meant to be amusing or miserable. She studied Erik in silence then, and it took her a moment before she realized that he was staring at her. The surprise was enough to make her breath catch in her throat, and she was about to say something when he slowly began to lean towards her. She tried to take a step back, but the table prevented her. Why was he staring at her like this? And still moving closer? She sensed her own pulse quicken as he lifted an arm and reached behind her. The bizarre tension Clara felt now derisorily stretched this brief moment a little too long for her comfort. But it was at the very moment that she comprehended that she was at a loss—that his eyes let hers go.

Erik withdrew. Varlese exhaled a suppressed sigh...Strange for her. Varlese? Sighing in such a way? Erik took no notice of her as he was examining the plain, angular, white mask he had taken from the table. He turned it over in his hand slowly in contemplation.

Varlese stepped around the table and felt the nervous need to occupy herself by brushing invisible dust off the skirt of her suit. "Yeah, I like that one too."

Erik looked up at her. She looked away. After a moment, his eyes went back down to the mask and hers returned to look at him.

"Turn around," he ordered in a low voice.

Varlese blinked, not understanding at first, and then she shook her head, "That's quite all right. It's about time I saw what you look like anyway."

Erik stared at her again in cold silence a moment before speaking, "You think so?"

She nodded and gestured with a wave of her hand. "Go for it."

Erik's eyes narrowed into that hostile glare brought on by instinct that had been constructed within him from before the first years in even his unnaturally acute memory. Since the earliest screams at the moment of his birth, the world had feared the sight of the horror that was Erik's face. He knew what Varlese would say if he objected. She would claim not to be a child. She would say she'd seen a lot in her life in this world of modern terrors and that a man's mere face was nothing more than a shrug of the shoulders and the bat of an eyelash. But Erik had seen such things too. In fact, he had probably seen much worse in his reclusive life of study than even a worldly professional woman like Varlese. He had always entertained a strange fascination with the macabre...It was as if he had been on a never-ending search for something in the realm of evils, for something, anything more grotesque than his face. An impossible search. Yes, Erik had seen the worst the world had to offer, but he had also seen his face.

How he hated mirrors.

Erik had truly seen it all...And he knew that no Hollywood horror film, spectacle of avant-garde special effects and illusions, or terror of publicized human brutality could prepare this woman for what lay beyond the mask.

But she did not know this and was impatient. "Go on," she insisted.

Perhaps it _was _about time she saw. After all, how could Erik deny her the honor? For all she had were his best interests at heart. Yes, she deserved to see. She deserved a good nightmare.

A brief span of silence, then Erik took off the black mask. Another moment of silence. Then he put on the white mask with a flash of hand that could have only come with countless years of habit. The moment had been very brief, yes; Erik hadn't looked at her in that time. It very well could have been that he knew if he looked at her, the sight of her face would have filled him with more disgust than his had filled her.

Erik hated mirrors, and when people looked at his face, even when they did not scream and even when their expressions remained blank, dumb, and unchanging—like eternal carvings, even then—their faces were the coldest mirrors Hell could ever offer. Had Erik looked at Varlese's face, what would he have seen in that mirror of paled flesh? He didn't want to know. He didn't have to know. He really didn't.

So what _was_ her reaction to the sight of his face? Well, Erik would never know. But it was a long time before she spoke. Erik spent that time examining his black mask. They hadn't kept good care of it...The lavishly lacquered surface of the dark wood was scratched and scuffed in places. Nothing ordinarily noticeable...Fine lines...tiny specks on its edges and its beautifully carved nose.

Varlese's voice drew back his attention as she finally spoke, "Well...ah...We won't show that to the jury."

Had she been intending to show it to the jury?

Erik lifted his head and glared at her fiercely as his grip on the mask instantly tightened.

Varlese was unexpectedly startled and backed away from him a couple steps, but she stopped again when she felt her legs hit the chair at the table behind her.

He moved towards her once more. "You didn't like it as much as you thought you would?"

"No!—I mean—" She pretended to be annoyed by the chair and moved around to its other side, keeping her eyes off him and beginning to gather up the masks left on the table. "I'm sorry, Erik...I didn't mean to—I don't think it's...It doesn't bother _me_, it's just that...The way you...." She couldn't quite get a grasp on exactly what it was she wanted to say. She looked up at him, suddenly realizing he was now a lot closer than he had been only a moment ago. "The way you looked...I don't mean the way you _looked! _I mean..." One of the masks fell from her fingers and landed under the table.

The burden of Erik's eyes would not retreat. He said, flatly, "You are shuddering."

"No, it's not that!" Varlese shook her head and tried very hard to find the right words. "I'm just—I'm thinking about the case... We know you're a very intelligent and gifted man, Erik, and—We know what you look like—It shouldn't matter...It's..." Was she trying to make up for the true reason for her reaction? "I'm just thinking about the jury...But it's not...It's..."

Her words trailed off, and for a few seconds the halted silence was more portentous than any past unspoken threats.

But then Erik shook his head and sighed to himself, "A chiacchiere costei mi par cosmopolita..."

Varlese was in the process of reaching under the table to retrieve the lost mask, but she looked up when he spoke. She understood the words well enough as her close Italian heritage allowed her to take offence at the comment. "What?"

Erik's back was to her, and he didn't really address her question, but said more as if in thoughtful remembrance, "Madama Butterfly...Lovely opera. She kills herself in the end..."

Varlese stood up and tucked the chair back under the table. "Who wrote that?"

Erik was looking down at the black mask in his hand, tightening his grip on it even more, and, for a moment, Varlese thought he had not heard her...But then he answered softly, "Puccini."

She watched him in perplexed silence for a moment and then held out her hand for the black mask. "You better give that to me before you break it."

He tossed it at her, but she missed catching it, and it hit the bars behind her, fell to the ground sideways, and then slipped between, coming to rest just on the other side.

"...Great," she muttered and then gathered the rest of the masks on the table back into the paper bag. She crunched up the top and looked up at Erik. "Lose the attitude before you get into that courtroom."

He didn't answer. She took up her briefcase in her other hand and signaled to the guard to unlock the grate. But before going, she stopped and looked Erik up and down, then back up again one last time. "Don't let me catch you standing with your arms folded like that anymore. And loosen up a little; you don't have to look so tense. We'll be the ones working today, not you. The press will pen you as a stiff."

She knelt down once outside the bars and picked up the fallen mask between two free fingers. She then glanced back at Erik once more as the guard locked the bars.

"And you know, it wouldn't kill you to smile."

After she was gone, Erik only whispered to himself, "Partout...la même..."

* * *

Footnote!!: ::lol:: This for anyone who might be wondering about Erik's Italian quote (I know everyone's not as obsessed with Opera). These are the actual lyrics from Puccini's Madame Butterfly. Pinkerton says them right after he meets Suzuki, Butterfly's housemaid, who babbles on and on as soon as she's introduced. In one lyrical translation to English, they mean: "When they begin to talk, alike I find all women." This and slight variations of these words seem to be the most popular translation (though not literal, of course, it's all about the meaning, not the definition) of the Italian lyrics. Now, don't think Erik's being sexist or anything... I just mean that he's just disappointedly commenting that he has gotten a lot of similar reactions to this particular situation, namely, Christine's "If I ever shudder when I look at you, it will be because I am thinking of the splendor of your genius" etc. etc. 

...mmmmm... splendor... ;)


	12. Erik Vs Christine

Hi all!! Sorry it took so long for me to update this one...writer's block... you know how it is. But in the meantime, I finished Curses of the Siren! (Go read if you haven't yet! I'm so proud I actually finished another phic!) AND I started something completely new called Master Mason as well as another horror phic called Elainie. Both those stories are still in their formative stages, but I have big ideas for them.

But anyway, here's another Erik chapter for you! Sorry but this one isn't really funny at all... Time to get serious. A little angst? Perhaps some romance? Just what we need ;) This is the longest chapter I have ever written in my entire life! And even once I got over my writer's block, it still took me forever to work on this, so I really hope you enjoy! The "result" of this chapter is dedicated to MidasGirl.

Much fmeek to all!

* * *

**Two Minutes after the Unmasking**

Christine Daaé had a headache. She and Raoul had arrived at the courthouse very early at the advice of the DA: "Or it will be impossible to find a parking place." And they had been sitting there, waiting, ever since. She and Raoul had not said a word to each other in what must have been half an hour. There was just nothing to talk about. Well, truth be told, ever since her internal revelation two days earlier, Christine's thoughts had been tangled with questions, concerns, and countless mental constructions of attempted ploys that had all been pathetic failures. Her overwhelmed mind had even been unable to sleep peacefully these past two nights. But she had not said a word to Raoul and had been doing her best to mask her turmoil with silent withdrawal.

Her fiancé had allowed himself to believe that her distance these past couple days was due to the anxiety they had all been suffering, and in a way, he welcomed the quiet opportunity to be alone with a bit of inner turmoil of his own.

"I need a drink of water."

He jumped ever so slightly where he sat, startled by her abrupt words that split the soft silence they had shared, but then he only nodded his head in assent.

She stood and glanced around the lobby. "Do you know where the bathrooms are?"

"No...Sorry."

She shrugged and started in one direction. "I'll just ask someone."

"There should be a sign..." He watched her just nod as she continued to go. "Just look for a sign..."

She did not answer him and went around a corner away from the main hall. She wasn't really thirsty anyway. She just needed...She did not even know what she needed. She had only been walking for less than a minute and she was already feeling queasy. Perhaps some nice, cool water actually wasn't a bad idea. She kept her eyes open for a fountain as she went. This wasn't the first time in the past two days she had suddenly felt like this...It was like seasickness. Her mind wasn't the only thing that was twisted in knots.

But it felt good to move about...and be away from Raoul's side. And so she continued to make her way aimlessly through hallways and past unmarked doors.

What would he look like? Sitting there in the courtroom...She would probably only be able to see him from behind. Unless he might turn around. Perhaps he would turn around just to look for her? Would he be hostile, as she knew he must be around so many people? Or would he be defeated, as she imagined he must have been in order to attempt suicide...? But that was her fault, wasn't it? If she had not gone to see him that day, he would not have tried to kill himself. She had long since convinced herself of this fact. If he had not recovered...If they had not saved him, she did not know what she would have done in her sorrow and guilt. And she could not help feeling the same way about the outcome of the trial. There must be something she could do! There must be some way! She could not bear it otherwise!

And as she once again began to dream up pitiable impossible plans, she also began to realize that she had become a little bit lost. She glanced back at the door she had just passed through. The sign on it read "No Entry." But it had been open...But then, she had come out of it, not gone into it. How on earth had she been inside a "No Entry" area? She looked around the unfamiliar hall where she now stood, and after a moment, decided against retracting her steps. There had to be another way back to the lobby without going back through "No Entry." She would just ask someone how to get back. Or look for a sign... But as she continued down empty hallways she began to realize that nobody was around. Where was she? She started walking faster. Christine was on edge, and when Christine was on edge, hysteria was never far away.

As she went around a corner and was all but ready to break into a run, she saw someone at the end of the hall. Exhaling deeply, she attempted in vain to slow her pace as she approached.

It took a few moments before she recognized Clara Varlese behind a briefcase and a big, brown bag. But it was what the lawyer had in her other hand that made Christine stop suddenly in her tracks.

Erik's mask! She would know it anywhere! It was the still-life face that haunted her dreams of sadness, confusion, and unfulfilled longing. Rarely did she ever dream of Erik with his own face. He was always his mask because...wasn't that what he wanted to be? But here was Erik's lawyer with his mask in her hand. Did that mean Erik was somewhere now without it? Somewhere near?

Christine was seized by the impulsive urge to see him now and explain everything, ask him directly all her tormenting questions. Erik would know, Erik always knew!

She caught up to the lawyer, inadvertently blocking her path. "Ms. Varlese..."

Varlese stopped and adjusted her load to look up at Christine. "Miss Daaé...? You're not supposed to be back here. Are you lost?"

Christine's nerves suddenly got the better of her. "No...I mean, yes, but that's not..." She bit her lip and turned to look back over her shoulder, but nobody else was around. "I would really..." She hesitated a moment before looking back to Varlese. "Really like to speak with Erik...Please..."

"With... But..." Varlese stared at Christine for a moment, trying to figure out if the girl was serious...and why on earth she would ask such a thing. But then as she looked down at the mask in her own hand, she realized what Christine must have been thinking. "Honey, I'm afraid that's not possible."

Christine immediately seized the woman's arm. "No! Please, you don't understand! I must see him!"

Varlese drew back, alarmed. "What? What is it?"

Christine withdrew, realizing her behavior was less than polite. "I...I can't explain... It's a private matter... It is very important, please!"

"Wait just a moment... Calm down, okay?" Varlese took a minute to take in Christine's desperation. She felt sorry for this girl... She seemed so fragile. Perhaps she was feeling guilt for the way she intended to abuse her when she would take the stand. It was nothing personal, of course. Varlese actually thought Christine was a very sweet young thing. But the defense had permission to treat Christine Daaé as a hostile witness, and they intended to make the most of it. Perhaps letting her see Erik now might smooth over some of that later on... And then, perhaps seeing Christine would be just what Erik needed to put him in an amicable mood for presentation to the jury.

"It doesn't have anything to do with the trial, does it?" She only paused for a second and then cut in again before Christine could answer. "Because if it _does, _I couldn't possibly let you see him."

"But..." Christine was not sure whether or not it might work to her advantage. "But I...I want to help... I want to..."

"_But_..._Not_ regarding anything to do with the trial... Right?"

It took Christine a moment, but then she understood. "Yes. Right." The two women stared at each other silently, Varlese contemplating and Christine waiting, before Christine's anxiety again got the better of her. "I don't have much time... Please, just if I could see him."

Varlese winked at her, then turned and started back the way she had come. "Follow me."

Christine did so and could only offer a small, shaky smile as an expression of the relief that had filled her for a glorious moment before uneasiness suddenly drowned it.

Varlese led the way through halls Christine had definitely not crossed in her process of becoming lost.

"Are you nervous?"

The question seemed random, and Christine at first thought Varlese was directly referring to her impending conversation with Erik. "Actually...yes, a little."

"Yeah. Big day today." Varlese stopped to adjust the things in her arms in order to turn a doorknob. "Maybe I should be too. But you've got it easy; you don't have to do anything today. Just sit there and listen to me rant and rave about forensics and evidence tampering. It's going to be a long time before you have to get up and do anything."

"Oh..." Christine almost sighed, realizing Varlese had meant the trial from the start. She watched the woman try to open the door for a couple moments before she snapped to her senses. "Oh, can I help? I could take something for you."

Varlese shuffled everything around to her other arm and looked down at the items for a moment before turning back to Christine. "Here, take this." She thrust the mask into Christine's open hand and then was free to turn the doorknob.

Christine froze and stared down at the mask in awed silence. Her fingers trembled as they traced its angles and then turned it over and slowly touched the inside. But gradually she began to realize that Varlese was getting further away and she forced herself to look up again to follow her.

She caught up, and asked, surprised by the breathlessness of her own voice, "Will I be able to see him alone?"

Varlese went through another door. "Hun, the guard won't pay any attention to you. He was half asleep when I was in there just now."

Christine had become distracted by the mask again, but then Varlese words made sense to her slowly. She looked back up at her, shaking her head. "Guard? But... Please, I couldn't concentrate with anyone there...Especially a ?" Varlese stopped at the only door at the end of this hallway. What exactly did Christine have in mind that needed private concentration...? She studied the girl for a moment and then gave her a little nod. "Well...Give me a minute. This officer might just be a little more understanding than we think." After all, a little bribery never hurt anybody. Anything to snap Erik out of that stubborn withdrawal. "Wait here."

Varlese went inside the door, leaving it open a crack, and Christine could hear her then knock at another door just inside. Peeking in, Christine saw the guard open up the second door from the inside to admit Varlese, then the door shut again with the heaviness of steel. Christine was alone. And Erik was in there... Just beyond that second door. Her attention went back to his mask and she once more began to tremble.

Seconds passed like minutes and minutes became millennia. What if she wouldn't be able to see him? Now, when she needed to more than ever... Fate could not be so cruel! But then fate had not been her friend lately, had it? Christine was suddenly filled with the sense that she was very alone in this world. And she longed for Erik now with a doubled thirst. Only Erik could resolve her anguish, Erik, who knew the answers to all the mysteries of the universe! Erik was the beginning and the end as well. Without him she was trapped in a limbo that squeezed her from every direction with the devastatingly horrible pressure of unbearable celestial gravity! It was better than a Greek tragedy.

If Varlese had known what sensational melodrama had been twisting through Christine's mind when she returned, followed by the guard from the inner chamber, to allow the girl into the space between the doors, her opinion on the stereotype of theatre people would have surely rolled its eyes.

She cleared her throat to pull Christine's attention away from that baleful black mask. "All right, I need to go get something from my car and then I'll come back and get you. You're going to be locked in there, but if anything—_anything _happens, just knock on the door and Officer Yusuf here will come back in."

She had done it! Christine wanted to embrace Varlese with all the gratitude in the world, but she restrained herself and only lightly took the woman's arm for a second. "Thank you so much." She hoped Varlese's car was _very _far away.

"Go in around the corner. You can't miss him." Varlese gave her a grin and another wink as the guard opened up the door for Christine.

Christine's smile broke through that nervous trembling of her lips once more before she went through the door. As she rounded the corner, the mask shook in her hands so incommodiously, that she could do nothing but clutch it to her chest.

The door locked behind her. Loudly.

She jumped and looked back at the sound, but when she turned around again, her eyes found Erik. A row of metal prison bars divided the room in half and there he was just on the other side. He was wearing slate grey and his back was to her, and she distantly wondered how it was she could recognize him so completely from behind. She had never seen him wear grey before... But how could she not recognize him simply by the way he stood. By the way his head was bowed just a bit from his shoulders in pensive concentration... By the way his crossed arms pulled the material of the suit taught across his back...

By...his height. As she broke from where she had frozen in place and began to approach the bars, her gaze seemed only to go up and up. The last time she had seen him, they had been sitting down...And before that seemed like years ago. How could she have forgotten just how tall he was...

If Erik heard Christine's soft footsteps, he made no indication of it. Perhaps he would have if he had known just whose footsteps they were. Christine reached the gate that kept her from going to him entirely and wrapped each hand around one of the cold metal bars while still managing to hold the mask.

The silence continued and his motionlessness began to upset her. He was so close... If only he would move to the bars, she could reach through and touch him... To touch him!

She could bear the stillness no longer. "Erik..."

His entire frame stiffened at the sound of her voice. But he did not move at all otherwise. The silence resumed for several very long moments before he spoke.

"...Yes?"

His glorious voice that she had missed so much was distressingly soft and she was not sure whether she heard generosity or defensiveness in that word... Perhaps it was a mixture of both.

She answered just as quietly, "Please... Will you look at me?"

He made no move at first, but how could Erik ever deny Christine? The silence stretched on, but then slowly, very slowly, he turned around and his eyes locked with hers across the space between them.

She would have been startled by the appearance of the white mask, but the strength of his gaze had already taken her breath away. She couldn't believe that he was so close...right there in front of her... The man who had made so much out of the empty shell she had been... Right there, standing not a few feet from her. She had the sudden urge to let her eyes fill with tears, but she bit her lip and tried to resist it.

"Erik, I...I had to see you..."

He did not want to think about the possibility that her strange expression might be guilt. He spoke very calmly, "You are not supposed to be in here."

She didn't understand. She would have liked to think he would have wanted her there... "I know...but...she said I could come..."

He glanced away at the mention of his lawyer, and said thoughtfully, "Did she..."

"Yes..." Christine took a deep breath and without his eyes to hold hers there, her gaze shifted to the mask in her hand that she held up against the bars. It took her some time before she could speak again. "I had to see you because I have to tell you something, Erik..."

His eyes snapped back to her and he moved close enough to the bars so that he had to look down in order to see her. He was quite certain he did not want to hear what it was she had to tell him. He was frustrated with dreams and resolved to keep this encounter in the realm of reality. He watched her for a moment more and then asked, "How is Raoul?"

Christine looked up to him, her brow furrowed in confusion... Raoul hardly existed to her right now in this room. Once the comment registered, although she could guess why he had asked, she truly did not want to answer. "...He's alright...He's fine... But I wanted to talk to you about something else, Erik."

Erik's tone was grave as he said, "Nothing else matters anymore, Christine." But then his voice softened again and he seemed to be speaking more to himself than to her, "You shouldn't be in here..."

He moved to turn away from her again, but upon doing so, he noticed that Officer Yusuf was conspicuously missing. "Where is the guard?"

Christine answered helplessly, "He's...I don't know, he's not here. Erik please let me talk with you...please. Things are more important now than ever..."

In the flash of a moment, he was at the bars, looking straight down at her. "We are alone?"

Her words were gone, lost in the sudden nearness of him. She could only look up into his eyes hopefully and nod.

He seemed to soften as he looked down at her for a long time in the private silence, but then it passed and his eyes left hers as he seemed to notice the mask in her hand for the first time.

"What is so important, Christine?"

"I had to tell you that you..." Tell him what? She took a deep breath to try again. Perhaps it was best that he wasn't looking at her just now. They were alone. Now she could be entirely honest and throw herself utterly in his mercy. "I had to tell you that I understand now, Erik..."

Just exactly what she meant by that, he did not know, and he did not think he wanted to know, so he did not ask. He took a step back from the bars. "Ought I to appreciate the irony, Christine?"

"No please... Don't go away!" She reached desperately through the bars with her free hand and grasped his before he could move too far back. "Please don't be sarcastic! I can't bear it right now..."

Erik's first instinct was to pull his hand away, but the shock that immediately pulsed through her skin into his set him afire with an electricity he thought he had been numbed to forever since that night. He couldn't let go. He had missed her too much.

"What do you want from me, Christine?" he asked legitimately. Oh, how he would give her whatever she wanted...

She clung to his hand gently. "I want you to know that I understand now. I want you to know that I know that you _made_ me. Without you, Erik...I'd be nothing. Anything that I am, you created. I never realized before... Erik, it means so much. My life...The world... After everything...I am so sorry I didn't realize it sooner. I am so sorry I ever took you for granted. I owe you everything that I will ever have."

Hearing her say that—and only that—twisted something inside Erik with frozen fingers. He took another step back so that his hand was too far for her to hold anymore. He spoke very softly, resuming his previous detached tone, "Ah... Is that all?"

As he moved away, Christine was flooded with the devastating sense that she had lost him completely. Her lips parted to speak, but no words came, and they only closed again as her previous urge to cry returned and conquered. Her hand remained reaching out for his where he had left it while the tears trailed down her flushed cheeks.

"Please don't cry." He did not look and he heard no sound, but he could always tell.

She spoke softly through those miserable tears, "You tried to kill yourself..."

"Once..." The word was all but a sorrowful sigh as if he meant that it was a very, very long time ago.

"I tried to come see you. They wouldn't let me near you." Distress was mounting. She needed to win him back to her! "Oh Erik, please don't act like this! Don't push me away when I need to be closer than ever to you!"

His gaze struck hers again, shocking her with the pained anger in his tone. "While you still can?"

She shook her head stubbornly and gripped the bars again with both hands. "No! I won't let them hurt you! I won't allow it!"

Her irrationality was heartbreaking, and he could not help but approach her again. "There is nothing you can do." It was a warning, as if he knew she might be planning to attempt something radical.

When he was close enough, she reached through for him again, managing to seize the cuff of his sleeve. "Yes there is! You must help me think! I have to do something! Anything!"

Erik's tone was serious in the way it would be if he were speaking to a small child. "Listen to me. There is nothing you can do."

As Christine only cried harder, her illogicality turned to its last resort. "You can get out of here...You can! I know you can! Use your voice, Erik... Please!"

His hand she did not detain furled through the bars to brush the tears from her face, but before it made contact, he thought better of the action and stopped himself. He spoke more gently now. He did not want to upset her anymore. "Even if I could, Christine... Then what?"

To be honest, Christine really had not thought that far ahead. She started to speak, then faltered and could only stare at him in perplexity. She found herself most bothered by the sudden realization that she would have absolutely no idea what to do if did escape or even if he legally ended as a free man. "Let's...let's focus on how first..."

"There is no how."

"Stop saying that!"

He removed his sleeve from her grasp and gave her one of his sternest looks.

For once, Christine was not going to back down at Erik's obvious command. She continued with a sudden calm clarity, "I'll tell them everything... I'll lie if I have to."

"Go ahead, my dear. Tell them everything. There is nothing more to tell."

"I can tell them what I just told you..."

"They would not care."

Christine was beginning to rapidly understand how Erik could ever try to kill himself. The despair of his situation was crushing the breath from her, and it took much effort for her to continue to speak. "Erik, listen to me, please... I won't let anything happen to you. I won't. If you ever cared for me, Erik...please don't try to hurt yourself again... You can't be your own enemy... I have to think of a way...I have to... I need you..."

Erik was taken aback. "Hurt myself...!" He shook his head in aggravation. "Do you take me for a depressive?"

Christine answered softly, "You have no hope... You tried to kill yourself... If you died Erik, my soul would die with you."

"But Christine, that's not... You don't understand."

"Explain it to me..." She wanted to understand! And to look to Erik for guidance one more felt like the most natural thing she had done since she had come into this room.

He seemed to consider telling her for a very long moment before he spoke. "I can't." The sorrow that filled his answer all but confessed how much he wished he could.

"Yes you can... I need you to. I'm so sorry I drove you to it... It's my own fault."

Erik went straight to the bars and reached through them to take her firmly by the shoulders. "_Never _think that!"

Her eyes widened in stunned shock at his sudden emotion. "...Then why...?"

For a moment he wanted to tell her the truth, and then he thought it might be best to invent some fabrication she would believe, but finally, he decided to minimize. He let his hands fall from her shoulders back to the bars. "I just wanted it to be finished. For everybody..."

"Then escape!" She did not seem to understand. "I'll help you in any way that I can, Erik! This place was not meant for you!"

"They would never stop searching for me. It would never be finished that way."

He was right. She knew it. And she found his hopelessness highly contagious. She lifted a hand to wipe her tears away, but they were immediately replaced. "Oh Erik..."

His voice was almost a whisper as he asked her again, "What is it you _want_ Christine?"

She sighed in defeat and her two hands fell to her side. "I want...you and I to be as we were..." Her blunt honesty frightened her as she spoke the genuine answer she couldn't say before now, and thoughts of Raoul drifted forth from the back of her mind immediately as she spoke.

Erik took in her words for a long time before he was able to speak again. "_Exactly_ as we were?"

Christine swallowed the lump her tears had formed in her throat, and she looked away from him for what was only the second time since she had come in the room. "Almost... I would know so much more, and I could finally give you something back."

Erik withdrew further, both physically and in expression. "Things could never be as they were, Christine."

She was looking back to him already. "Why." It wasn't a question, it was a refusal.

He matched her defiance. "Because you are assuming that that is also what I want."

Staggering dismay! She could not look at him anymore. She had so fully assumed that he would welcome her back that she had thrown away all her defenses to make herself completely vulnerable to him. Her heart sank into netherworlds as a sense of utter stupidity mixed with the greatest sorrowful misery she had ever felt drained all the last color from her face. The frozen tears that had reached her lips did nothing to moisten the parching stiffness that could barely form her word, "Oh..."

Erik was not quite certain what to make of her reaction... He did not know whether to think she was being rather selfish for wanting what she wanted without acknowledging what he wanted, or that _he_ was selfish for not wanting to give it to her. He thought he would give her anything! But no. He could not go back to that. Longing for her every moment while she only wanted so much from him and nothing more...

But she was crying so pathetically now. Had he done this to her? He wanted to comfort her... But reality... The realm of reality....

"You and I never found happiness together, Christine... Not the way things once were."

Christine's breath was gone. She no longer even had the capacity to choke out the small sobs that had begun to accompany her tears. In the overwhelming grief of the realization that she had completely overestimated his feelings for her, she could not refrain from giving forth more of the pure truthful defenselessness in the softest of pleas, "My happiest memories were with you."

Erik's hands clenched at his sides, but his voice maintained its lilting tone of comfort. "I know it, Christine... I made sure that they were... I gave you everything you wanted from me. And nothing more."

Overpowered, Christine could no longer support her own weight, and she leaned against the bars for support. Blindness! Horrible, cruel, wretched blindness. "...I'm sorry..."

Her sudden weakness concerned Erik, but he did not allow himself to approach her. Things must be as clear to her as they were to him. Reality. Had she forgotten just why the events of that last night had occurred? Had she forgotten why he was here now in this jail cell?

"Christine, I couldn't do it anymore... Living _that _way with you. You knew this, and you begged me to let you go... And I did."

Had she forgotten why he would rather die than live without her?

Clarity washed over Christine. She had done this to herself. She had begged him for Raoul. She had begged him to be set free from the darkness, she had pleaded for the light... And now that light had scorched the life from her flesh and left her cracked and shaking, lost in the desert where the sun would never set, where the cool peace of the night would never free her mind.

And if devastation was so complete for her, what had it done to Erik! Her voice was a vague echo, "You did exactly as I asked...and now look where you are..." Lost! He was lost to her and she could not believe that it was she who had pushed him away. The mask fell from her fingers in a moment of weakness and the sharp sound it made as it hit the cement floor was echoed by her own cry. She immediately retrieved it; she could never let go of what she had left of him!

Erik spoke again, just as firm as when he had grabbed her shoulders. "It is not your fault."

His words seemed far away to her and she could not grasp their meaning. "I pushed you away, and now you're gone."

She felt him approach the bars and she could not help but look up into the eyes that burned into hers. His voice caught her then, pulling her back to attention.

"_Christine, it is not your fault_."

She could not escape that voice. She was locked to him and her head only nodded so slightly in acknowledgement. Not her fault...

She was so innocent... So fragile... And as each of her breaths hung on his in the trance of focus his voice had induced, he longed to touch her. To touch her! And feel that warmth, that fire again. Very slowly, he reached through the bars, and he did brush the tears from her face this time. "Don't cry anymore..."

Guilt and blame had been lifted from Christine's conscience but the miserable awareness of rejection remained. Her eyes longed to close in peacefulness as his fingers trailed across her cheek, but she could not break contact with him.

He treasured the quiet moment, taking in every detail as fully as he could before he knew it must end. His voice came from him a gust of the breeze of memory, "How I have missed you..."

The confession started her from her surreal state, and she clung to it desperately. "I've missed you too..."

He spoke as softly as she had, "Christine...I want you to forget me... I want you to live your life. Take everything I gave you, live your life, and never cry again..."

The irony of the gentleness of his tone and unintended cruelty of his words struck her with a stinging blow. Her voice was almost inaudible. "I don't have a life without you in it."

"Yes you do. I gave you a glorious life, Christine... Do not waste it in tears."

Christine suddenly seized his hand and her voice erupted in a desperate cry. "I don't want it without you!"

Erik pulled back at her outburst, breaking contact with her. But he said nothing. He knew she knew she could not have both worlds.

As far as Christine cared now, the real world no longer needed to exist. A whimper escaped her throat as he only pulled away again after she had exposed her emotions. It was there, all of it, she had told him everything... And he did not want her. She was quiet again as she finally managed through her anguish to ask, "Do you want me to leave, Erik?"

No! "Yes. Because I know that the moment you do, you will reconcile yourself with reality and realize that this...is the way it was meant to be..."

Even she could feel his hesitance as he forced himself to finish that thought.

"This is not how it is supposed to be... You know that, Erik...I can hear it in your voice..." And hope had sprung again in Christine's heart.

"That is not how we want it to be... But that is how it needs to be."

Wounded, she could not keep from being blunt. "It is how you want it to be."

"I want what is best for you, Christine... Now..."

"Do not hide behind that, Erik... If you do want it to be, I want you to say it... Say it and I'll never come back. I will never bother you again."

He wrapped his hands around the bars and looked down at her in silence. And as each moment passed, the hope that grew within her twined agonizingly with the anticipation of dismissal. Then, after a lifetime's worth of swelling anxiety, his gaze fell, and he looked away from her in defeat.

He simply could not say it.

The cold, beautiful wind of relief blew through Christine, fresh and soothing away the cracks in the wasteland of her dejection. He wanted her to stay! He wanted her as much as ever! Her eyes shone with gratified moisture as she reached up to his hands on the bars, folding hers over them.

But just as she opened her mouth the speak, the slamming of the door just outside the room immediately followed by the clatter of keys in the lock of the inner door turned both their heads to the corner.

"...No, not now! Not yet!" she cried as the door opened and a guard she'd never seen before came into the room.

"Abdul!" he called for the other guard, before he saw Christine. But once around the corner, he could not miss her, and his hand went to the holster at his belt. "Hey! You're not supposed to be in here!"

He was probably more concerned that the accused murderer was touching this young girl than by the fact that she was in there, but he switched his grip to the club at his side, lifting it and went directly to the barred area. "Where's Yusuf?"

Erik let go of Christine and took a step back inside the cell.

Christine on the other hand remained exactly where she was. "I only need another minute, sir...please..."

Erik's voice was a soft command. "Go on, Christine." The last thing he wanted was trouble for her.

The guard hit the bars sharply with his club. "You shut up in there." And then he gestured for Christine to follow him out of the room.

She did not move. "Don't speak to him like that..."

He took her by the arm with a solid grip, having no objections to dragging her from the room, and promptly began to do so. "Where did the officer on duty go?"

Christine ignored the question and focused all her efforts on trying to twist free from his large hand, desperately straining to look back at Erik who was only watching them go in distant silence from behind the bars.

No! She could not leave him like this! She wasn't finished! More time! She needed more time! Her resistance against the guard suddenly increased with hysterical intensity. "I can't leave yet! Please, let me go!" she sobbed.

He grabbed her painfully with his other hand as well in attempt to control her. "Do you want to be charged with assaulting an officer?"

Erik spoke firmly from behind the bars, "Christine, go with him."

"No!" Her little feet stamped on the man's shoes and her nails clawed at him in instinctual defense. "Let go!"

"Shit!" he shouted as she scratched into his arm. He clenched both of her wrists in one of his giant hands, and unfastened the club again from his belt. "If you don't calm down immediately, I will resort to force."

Erik's grip on the bars at the door of the cell tightened so severely that his fingers turned whiter than usual, and the sight only made Christine struggle all the more as she was pulled further away from him. "I will not go yet! Let go of me!"

Erik's voice burst around them. "Do not harm her."

"She's lost it!" The guard lifted the club and brought it down against Christine's temple.

Not a moment after the crack that was enough to stun her exploded through her skull, she felt the guard wrenched away from her and then heard a much louder crack as his head made contact with the opposite wall.

"You've lost it." Erik's words were passionately cold as the unconscious guard slid to the floor.

And then Erik's arms were around her, catching her before she could fall as she reeled between the blow and shock. It had all happened so quickly! And she could hardly register at first just how closely he held her.

She could feel his fingers tenderly inspecting her temple as the swimming of her eyes gradually came to focus. She stared across the room at the guard in a limp pile on the floor, the club still in his hand.

And then she turned into Erik's arms, embracing him in desperate fervor. He held her closely, as tightly as he dared. And neither said a word, as they each knew that this moment would not last and was meant only to be cherished.

His hand moved to the back of her head, his fingers sliding through her hair as he pressed her to him. Slowly, he shifted his lips to her ear as if he meant to tell her something...

There was a sound at the door. He looked up quickly, but Christine continued to cling to him. Oh, he did not want to let her go! Another sound. With all his strength of will, he pulled away and gave her a gentle push in the direction of the door.

By the time she could turn back to look, he was already behind the bars again.

But she only saw him there for a split second before she bumped right into the people coming around the corner. Clara Varlese stumbled back into another guard Christine had never seen before. She caught onto Christine's arm to steady herself and thereby prevented the girl from returning to the bars where she promptly intended to go.

Varlese glanced back at the guard behind her and then moved into the room, immediately seeing the other one on the floor.

"Mamma mia!" She decided it best to keep hold of Christine's arm then. "What's going on here?"

Christine glanced down at the man on the floor. To be honest, she could not say what had happened. She had not seen a thing. She looked back up at Varlese. "...He fainted..."

Varlese shot a look to Erik who was all the way at the opposite side of his cell, sitting calmly in one of the chairs and not seeming to pay attention to a thing. She knelt down next to the fallen man, the other officer already at his other side. "He hit his head. He's bleeding." She scowled as she watched the guard smack the man's face a couple times to attempt to revive him.

Christine watched for only a moment before she looked back to Erik. He was staring right back at her.

Varlese stood and dusted off her hands. "I'm going to get some help." She then turned to Christine, speaking curtly, "You, come with me."

Christine barely had a chance to agree before the lawyer ushered her out of the room and shut both doors behind them. She started briskly down the hall and her voice was hushed, but the tone was furious, "What the hell happened in there?"

It was difficult for Christine to keep up with Varlese's pace in her shocked state. "He came in...and he was asking me to leave when he...just...passed out. Is he a diabetic...?"

"Fainters don't make it through prison guard training school, honey."

Christine could only shrug. This was not what was on her mind right now. Erik! Oh, how she wished she could have said one last word to him! Why did it all have to happen so fast? Only a moment ago she had been in his arms and now he was locked away from her again behind countless doors. What if that was the last chance she would have with him? Oh, how she wished she could have had one more minute! If only to say goodbye!

But there was something else... In the very back of her mind that almost made her feel sick to her stomach. What was it?

Varlese seemed to take no notice of the girl's distance as she rushed her through the halls. "Not a word of _any_ of this to _anyone_, got it?" And they were in the lobby again. As quickly as that. Where Raoul was right there, waiting for her. "Capisce?"

Raoul! That was it! Christine froze at the end of the lobby. Raoul... How could she have forgotten about Raoul? She stared at him in shock as he practically ran over to them. It took a jab from Varlese for Christine to snap out of it, and she did not even look at her as she gave the answer the woman had been waiting for. "Yes... Yes, of course..." And then she turned to her for one last moment of genuine gratitude before Raoul reached them. "Thank you..."

"Christine! Where have you been?"

Varlese sincerely hoped that Christine could be trusted. "She was with me."

Raoul was put off by the fact that the lawyer did not even so much as look at him. Scum. He had been developing quite a distaste for lawyers lately.

"Yes..." Christine slowly turned to face Raoul. "I'm sorry it took so long..." The fretted look on his handsome features immediately reminded her of his emotional outburst two days earlier... And all she had promised to him then. What had happened to justice? Where was her loyalty to him now? Guilt flooded her and that sense of sickness left her mind and went straight to her stomach.

Varlese gave each of them a formal nod before turning and leaving as briskly as she had come.

Raoul waited until she was gone before he turned back to Christine. "What were you doing with his lawyers?"

"They wanted to..." She had no idea what to say... "To ask me... to reconsider my decision..." Oh God... How could she?

Raoul was confused. "What?"

"They just wanted to make sure I had made up my mind..." She hated lying to him!

Raoul glowered determinedly. "As if it could make a difference this late in the game. You don't even have to speak to them if you don't want to, you know that, Christine, right?" His expression softened as he put an arm around her shoulders. "But I can tell by the way she stormed out of here, she didn't like what you told her."

"No, she didn't..." She was trying her hardest not to tremble.

Raoul gently guided her back to where they had been before, and he sat down with her, never taking his arm from her shoulders. "I'm sorry I snapped at you..."

She shook her head a little. She could not even make eye contact with him. "It's alright, don't worry Raoul... I understood..." She could still feel Erik's arms around her... His breath at her ear as his lips parted to speak to her... The words that had never been said....

Raoul brushed a lock of hair from her face as he studied her. "You were crying..."

She glanced away a little further. "It was just...difficult..."

He pulled back, angry again. "How dare they! What did she do? Accost you on your way to the water fountain?"

"Well I wouldn't say she accosted me..." She had done so much for Christine in allowing her to see him... To speak with him... To touch him... She knew he was going to say something to her in that last moment before the others came back in... What was he going to say?

"Your eyes are so red... Do you want to go home? We don't have to stay, you know."

How she hated the thought of Erik in that barred cell, all alone!

"No, I'm alright..." She still could not meet Raoul's eyes. "Are you ok?"

He was confused again. "I'm fine..."

"Alright, good..."

Something was not right. Raoul knew this well enough. What wasn't she telling him? He took her face in his hand and tried to turn it so he could get a better look at her.

Christine resisted the movement. She couldn't look at him! She couldn't look into the eyes of the man who she told she loved everyday, when all she could think about was the feeling of Erik's fingers sliding through her hair as he pressed her head to his shoulder.

She shut her eyes and her hands squeezed into fists. And it was then that she realized she was still holding something. The mask! Her eyes snapped open, wide with shock. Don't look down! She turned straight to look at Raoul and moved her hand around the side of the bench.

Although Raoul was prevented from noticing Erik's mask, Christine's sudden, visible tension was more than obvious. "What is it?"

"It's nothing!"

He took her by her shaking shoulders and turned her sideways where she sat to face him. "You suddenly looked scared to death."

Her arm twisted behind her as she forced the hand holding the mask to stay hidden as he turned her. "I'm sorry..." It sounded inappropriate even to her. What would she do? He could not see! She could not let him know!

"Just tell me what it is." His hands slid from her shoulders down her arms so that he could lift her hands to hold them.

She stood abruptly, thrusting the mask behind her back. "I just... I feel sick suddenly, that's all..."

Raoul remained sitting as he looked up to her, concerned. He started speak, but then his eyes fell to the level of her hands, and he realized that she was hiding something. He frowned again. "What's that?"

Christine did what Christine did best: run from her problem. She turned hastily, keeping the mask hidden by her body and out of his sight and began to walk quickly away. "I'll be right back."

Raoul went right after her and grabbed her by her free arm. "Christine!"

"It's alright, I promise Raoul! Just one moment!"

He tried to pull her around so that he could see what it was she had.

A moment of panic! And then she impulsively hugged him, wrapping both of her arms around his back.

Raoul was both hurt and angry by her obviously evasive actions. He reached around behind his back and felt something hard.

She looked up at him. So close... But she knew she had to give up. She began to apologize before he even knew what it was, "Please don't be angry Raoul... It's not what you think..."

He took both of her arms, holding onto them firmly and then pulled back away from her so that they ended up in front. He looked down. "...What the hell?"

Christine had no explanation. She was lost. But she could not let him know the truth! She could not let him know what she had told Erik!

Raoul let go of her and took the mask from her hand. "Where did you get this?"

She doubted she could ever meet his eyes again. "Clara... I mean... the lawyer..." Actually, that was the truth. "Yes... Her hands were full... I just wanted to help her...and I forgot I was holding it..."

The look of disgust on Raoul's face as he studied the mask almost broke her heart. "She forgot it too," he said as if making a decision. "Guess she doesn't need it." He then glanced around the lobby, and seeing a trashcan, he left Christine's side to go to it.

"Wait!" She ran after him, immediately snatching the mask. "Don't throw it away!"

"Why not?"

She clutched it to her chest. "It's...It's not ours to throw away... I should return it to her."

"She didn't want it enough to remember it. Not our fault. It's garbage."

"She was just carrying a lot of stuff... I really don't think we should throw it away."

Raoul studied her for a very long moment before speaking, flatly, "You want to keep it."

Christine gasped aloud. "I don't! I forgot I had it... This is why I didn't want you to see it!"

"It's practically glued to your hand."

"Raoul, please..." Did she want to keep it? "Trust me when I tell you things... You must trust me, Raoul..."

"Of course I trust you, Christine...but...I know how you feel about him."

She looked down at the mask, and then finally back up at Raoul. "...How do I feel about him?"

He gestured ambiguously, lost for the right words. "You can't let go."

She never wanted to let go! "I can...I have...I have, Raoul." It took every bit of power within her to will herself not to cry again.

Raoul found it easy not to believe her. But he remained silent, and then after another moment, he turned and went back to where he had been sitting, leaving her there alone.

She watched him go. All too recent promises assailed her memory. She had told him how much she loved and supported him... How she wanted what was right for him. How together, they were all they needed for each other. And it was true. Wasn't it true? She went after him. "Raoul...I'm sorry! It's just a mask... You can do what you wish with it."

He looked up at her. "Throw it away." It was a test.

But she couldn't let go! This might be all she had left of Erik... But the pain in Raoul's blue eyes was so shattering! She looked down at the mask. It's just material, she told herself. It doesn't mean anything. It's just a mask. But she couldn't! She wrapped her arms around it again as the tears welled up in her tired eyes. And then Raoul looked as if he had been shot! She moved towards him and he turned away. She stopped, and her eyes went to the trashcan. It's just material. It doesn't mean anything. Raoul was more important. She walked over to it slowly, forcing herself to peel the mask away from her breast. Raoul was watching her again. She lifted her hand, holding the mask over the can... And dropped it in.

When she looked back to Raoul, he gave her a hint of a smile and held out a hand for her to return to where he was sitting. But before she even took a step, they both turned suddenly as they were summoned by a clerk. It was time.

Raoul started in the direction of the courtroom, assuming Christine was right behind him. But as soon as his back was turned, she dipped down inside of the trashcan and retrieved the mask. She took the briefest of moments to brush it off, her fingers stroking its inside reverently...longingly... And then she tucked it under her sweater and hurried into the other room to catch up with Raoul.


	13. Nadir Vs Erik

Hey, guess what:lololol: I don't think there's anything that needs to be said. ;) There are no words. Except:

Enjoy! Much fmeek! Sorry this is so short compared to the last few chapters, but it didn't need to be any longer, and I'm just happy to have it written at all! Thank you all for all your patience with me! And thank you all SO much for the reviews! Trust me, if it weren't for the reviews, this story would have never come back!

--Your obedient Scorpion

* * *

**Concurrent with the Announcement**

Nadir Kahn, who often made a point of finding a way into places he didn't belong, had actually had no difficulty whatsoever in making his way back to where Erik was being held. He had come to know the layout of this courthouse well enough, but surprisingly the usual security guards that would have stopped him from trespassing into restricted areas were not at their posts.

He was set with excuses and falsehoods that he hoped would gain him access past the doors, but when he reached them, he found them open in a final stroke of strange fortune. He heard the sounds of panic before he even made it around the corner to the inner room but did not let his alarm betray his caution and attempted to remain inconspicuous.

A small crowd that consisted of the defense lawyer Clara Varlese, a uniformed prison guard, and two other men in standard business dress surrounded a fallen man who lay on the floor near the wall. Nadir glanced about for anyone else of authority that might explain the circumstances but only saw a disinterested Erik seated in a chair behind the bars on the other side of the room. He did not even seem to notice the hysterics.

"Call them again." The voice of the lawyer brought Nadir's attention back to the group and he watched from the corner as the officer barked into his radio unit in a thick West Indian accent.

"No, don't move him!" Varlese stopped the hands of one of the plainclothesmen. "Just wait until they get here."

"We should take him out into the office," the man objected.

She shook her head. "Are you crazy, he's twice your size. No way you could move him without hurting him."

The third man, who wore a clerk's nametag sat back on his heels and put a hand to his forehead before Nadir's shape caught his eye.

"Are you a doctor?" He stood hopefully.

Nadir shook his head but could not speak before the officer shot up from where he had been crouching, cutting him off:

"Get out! Restricted area!" He turned to the clerk, "Why don't you stand at the door. The whole city is going to wander in here."

"It's okay," Varlese put an arm out in front of the man's legs before he could advance towards Nadir. "I know him; he's with me."

The guard looked at her doubtfully. She glanced at Nadir, hesitating only a moment before adding:

"He's a cop." It was only half a lie.

Nadir nodded and came further into the room, looking again to where Erik sat, but saw no change in his posture.

"A detective, actually," he addressed the guard. "What happened here?"

Varlese shot him a look that he easily ignored.

"No one knows," the guard said flatly. "He was like this before any of _us _came in."

Nadir stayed where he was for a few moments, noting the trickle of blood that had begun to form a tiny pool beneath the man's head. Then his eye traveled up the wall to a place where a few black hairs clung to the cold cement.

"Did anyone get him any water?" he asked one of the kneeling men.

"Why don't you go get him some water," the guard snapped at him.

Honestly, Nadir did not want to leave the room any more than any of them had.

The radio came alive with static and a distorted voice and both Varlese's and the husky man's attentions were diverted.

Nadir stepped back and moved around the group over to the cell. Everything about Erik was absolutely still except for his left hand, which was moving in slow circles at the wrist, and his thumb rubbed absently against each of his fingers.

"Erik," Nadir hissed at him through the bars. "Is this your doing?"

Erik lifted his head and his eyes turned quickly to the anxious group, then snapped back to Nadir. "No."

"Don't lie to me, Erik." Nadir kept his voice hushed.

Erik eyes narrowed behind the strange new mask. "What are you doing here?"

"Since when do you wear white?" Nadir asked instead.

"In some countries," Erik tilted his head back where he sat, "White is the color of death."

"He's turning purple!" the clerk shouted suddenly and all but Nadir returned to his side.

"Erik, what have you done?" Nadir breathed almost inaudibly.

Erik ignored him and stood to move toward the bars, looking through, offhandedly waving Nadir out of his line of sight.

"It's asphyxiation," he offered, his voice, as always, heard above all others.

"Shut up," the conscious guard snapped at Erik.

"He's right," the man on the floor called. "He's stopped breathing!"

Varlese jabbed the guard to take his attention from the bars. "Call them again!"

"What the hell is taking them so damn long to get a doctor in here," the other man demanded simultaneously as the officer began shouting into his walkie-talkie.

The man on the floor began to convulse slightly and Erik moved to the door of the cell. "Sit him up," he told the desperate clerk, who glanced over at him quickly, then began to lift the guard by his shoulders.

"No!" The other man stopped him. "Don't listen to him."

"What are you doing?" Nadir shot at Erik as Varlese moved over to listen.

Erik put a hand on the door. "He can't breathe. He is going to die."

Varlese looked back at the clerk who had attempted to begin CPR while the other man was attempting to prevent him.

Nadir scowled at Erik, "And how do you know that?"

Erik glared at him and lifted a hand to direct his gaze to follow Varlese's. It looked as if the fallen man's head were about to explode.

"Not like that," Erik called through to the clerk again.

"Shut up!" The guard hit the door of the cell with his radio that had never ceased to scream static.

"He knows what he's talking about," Varlese said, turning up to the guard.

Erik met the officer's eyes. "I…could help him."

Varlese reached for the keys at the guard's belt.

He stopped her hand roughly. "Woman, don't touch my keys."

"He's a doctor!" she exclaimed. It was only half a lie.

Erik's eyes moved back across the desperate scene on the floor, and then met Nadir's again. "He is going to die."

"Let him out," Nadir suddenly commanded with all the authority of a chief of police.

The guard looked back and forth between both Varlese and Nadir, then turned back to look at the others, shaking his head with uncertainty.

"His pulse!" one of the men on the floor looked up at those standing and none of them could mistake the honest fear in his eyes.

The guard tucked his radio away, then unhooked the keys from his belt and unlocked the cell's door.

"Now—" But before he could give any orders, Erik had already brushed by him.

Immediately, Erik was on the floor at the unconscious man's side, lifting him up slightly and holding him around the shoulders. Nadir could not see very well then what the trickster did as he turned completely where he knelt to shield his actions with his body, but he was sure he distinctly saw one of Erik's mystifying, manipulative hands about the guard's throat.

Nadir stepped forward, but then Erik was sitting back again, and the guard, though still unconscious, had begun to gasp in great breaths of air as the deep color almost instantly began to drain from his face.

"He'll be fine," Erik said simply, and perhaps with a note of disappointment that only Nadir could pinpoint.

"What…" the undistinguished man stammered.

"I was not looking when it happened," Erik's eyes stayed on theirs for a brief silent moment before he looked down to gesture to the guard's body as he continued, "but I can imagine that after he tripped and cracked his head against the wall, he may have pinched a nerve in his neck the way he fell, here, which slowly stopped the flow of blood to his brain."

The two men in suits glanced at each other, then looked back to Erik as the clerk rubbed the back of his head. "But…how would that…"

Erik was moving the unconscious man back to half-sit against the wall. "If someone had actually taken two minutes to retrieve some cold water, you might have revived him right now."

No one responded to that and for a few moments the only sounds in the room were the guards pants of recovery and the steady static of the other guard's radio. Abruptly the static changed into a painful shrieking nose and the guard turned down the volume.

Varlese looked slowly at each of the six men in the room before being the first to speak:

"Well, I—" but her words were cut short by the sudden sound of approaching voices and many footsteps that were at once in the door and around the corner into the room. The paramedics had finally arrived.

The guard moved from where he had been standing, around the group on the floor to inform their chief of the circumstances.

The doctor nodded and moved towards the victim, but stopped short upon seeing Erik at the man's side.

"Who is that…Hey! What is _he_ doing there!"

Erik looked up at the paramedic, dusted off his hands and stood to face him, then looking down at the paramedic.

The doctor took a step back and said nothing more, waiting for an explanation as his eyes found the open cell door.

"He's coming around," called one of the other doctors who had gone straight to the fallen guard.

"_He_ just saved this man's life." Varlese stood as well and brushed off the front of her skirt, stepping up to Erik's side. "A lot more than I can say for you, _doctor_. What in God's name took you so long?"

The man shook his head and waved his stretcher-bearing attendants into the room.

"My client is a hero," Varlese continued. She turned to a police officer who had arrived with the team. "Put that in your report."

"I need some answers here," the new officer addressed her and the rest of the room, only glancing briefly at Erik.

"Get them from them," Varlese gestured to the guard and the two men in suits. "We are late." She handed the officer one of her cards and gestured for Erik to come with her as she moved toward the door.

Erik's eyes found Nadir then who had backed out of the way of the new crowd of white and blue suits in the tiny grey room.

Nadir did not like that look. What was it; a strange sort of triumph. And how was it that he had been the only one who had noticed how the heel of Erik's shoe had crunched down upon and ground into the unconscious guard's fingers when he had first moved to stand and then discreetly kick away the billy club that had been lying nearby. A hero? Hardly... But if this incident were to gain publicity, that might just be what a great deal of people would soon think, and Nadir highly doubted Varlese would have any trouble acquiring publicity. Nadir shook his head in silent thought. Just when he thought he had Erik figured out, it was always a new surprise. The color of death indeed…

He waited until Varlese and Erik had managed to leave the room in the company of a new prison guard and then he too slipped away while the inquiring officer questioned the other men.

He found his way into the packed courtroom just in time to see Erik being brought in through another door. Varlese was already at the front of the room, explaining the situation to judge and another official there, but Nadir's eyes remained upon Erik, and as he was led up the aisle between the crowded rows, every other eye in the room found him as well.

The noise in the room ceased. They were all staring at him. The pale glow of Erik's yellow eyes roved slowly over each of the faces in the seats as he walked, searching, until he found her. She was looking at him too. And her fiancé's arm moved around her shoulders to pull her closer to him.

Christine did not seem to notice, and her arms where they had remained wrapped around herself, concealing the shape beneath her sweater, slowly fell limp. She was sitting on the aisle; he would walk right past her. She would be able to reach out and touch him…

Her mouth opened, but she said nothing. He was coming closer…closer…He was there…Raoul's arm stiffened where it held her. Her breath caught in her throat and her entire frame tensed as the slight breeze of his passing felt like enough wind to blow her away. So close again…She could touch him… But Erik was still walking with the bailiff, already past her, and her hands remained limp in her lap. Why had she thought he would stop?

Her eyes followed the back of him as he went around the front and took his seat at the table, just as everyone's eyes followed him, burned into the back of his grey suit. Then the whispers began again. Christine already felt her tears reforming. She looked down and rewrapped her arms about herself.

"Do you want to leave?" Raoul asked her softly.

She shook her head. She was in the same room with Erik. She did not want to go anywhere.

* * *

Ahhh… Hope you liked, and please let me know what you think! Again, sorry it was so short, but it was just a little scene. Sorry to say though that this story is, along with all my others, now on hold until after I finish my story Elainie. Instead of working on all my stories at the same time, I'm going to finish them each one by one and this one probably will be third or fourth in line. Thanks so much to everyone who's stuck with it, I love you all!and I promise you, what I have planned will more than make up for the wait! 


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